


Smile

by BlueStarAngel



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 64,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueStarAngel/pseuds/BlueStarAngel
Summary: It was Christmas Eve, and Callum Highway was about to receive the assignment of his career; helping to take down one of the most notorious organised crime gangs in East London. However, with a leader who was nobody's fool, how could Callum possibly find a way in?
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 102
Kudos: 204





	1. Thank God It's Christmas

**Part One: _'"Is..."_**

Callum’s foot tapped rapidly, the clopping of his heel repetitive but unrhythmical on the threaded, short carpet. His shoes were shined so brightly that they reflected the lights, almost showing a distorted refection of the room in the rounded toe. The first time he had brushed them, they just hadn’t seemed clean enough, so he had picked up the thick bristled brush and scratched the tar polish with an intense speed for a second attempt. The harsh, chemical scent had hit the back of his nose, creating a pungent burn. Now, looking down, they still weren’t clean enough for the occasion. He still felt like he was just pretending in the role.

Smiling over to the secretary, he hoped it would move the process along even quicker. It didn’t seem to work though; she simply continued to look at her watch impatiently, as if that would move time faster. Callum wondered where she needed to be, or where she wanted to go.

That wasn’t uncommon for him, to muse about the people around him. He wondered if any of them were like him, but once he picked up on little details, that was usually disproven. Take this assistant; she was twirling an engagement ring on her finger and kept trying to discreetly take a sneak at her phone with a hidden smile. Of course she had somewhere to be, someone to go to; it was Christmas after all.

The day so far wasn’t how Callum had expected his Christmas Eve to go. He’d woken up after the sun had already risen, not needing to work until later. He had signed up voluntarily for the later shift, knowing that a lot of his colleagues would want to be with their families on Christmas Eve; putting out a mince pie for Santa with their little ones, and curling up by the Christmas tree as an explosion of dinner prep crowded the kitchen ready for morning.

That was the reason he had signed up to work Christmas Day as well. Everyone had family to go to, presents being dragged in bulging bags as cackles of laughter rang out when doorbells were merrily rung. That wasn’t his life. If he hadn’t been working, he’d spend it in his flat, just a microwave meal for his festive lunch. He could make a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, or even just a home cooked meal, but it wouldn’t seem right. It would seem too much for spending the day alone. The one day that people came together.

All Callum would be doing would be sitting, listening to the radio by his thread bare Christmas tree, the floor barren underneath; no ribbons attached to shiny paper. Nothing at all. It always made him laugh to himself when people said how alone they felt. He would just nod and smile along, but it snapped him in two when the next moment they would move the conversation on to their families or friends, and all the things they did together. They didn’t really understand the meaning of the word alone; how it felt to be locked solitary in this cell, all his human connections being work related. But he always came home alone. That never changed, no matter how hard he worked or how much he wished for more.

That’s why he agreed to work at Christmas. It would give a chance for one more of his colleagues to spend their day with their loved ones. It was part and parcel of the job. There were no guaranteed holidays in his line of work, no assurances that you could spend weekends, nights or special occasions celebrating. That was just part of being in the police force.

“PC Carter?” the secretary called over to him, her voice soft but with a hurried insistence. “DCI Thompson is ready to see you now. It’s the first door on the left.”

Callum clambered up out of his seat, brushing down his uniform with his hands, fluttering away any lint that had settled on his pristine trousers. He nodded to the assistant as he passed, but she was too busy staring at her phone screen again. That happened to Callum a lot. Once he had served his purpose to people, it was like he was just blended out of their sight.

Clearing his throat, Callum walked a little way down the corridor and stood in front of the tan, wooden door. What was he doing here? When he received the phone call that morning, asking him to go to the office of the Detective Chief Inspector, he had to check they had the right person. He wasn’t anyone, just some rookie that had been on the job less than a year. All he had done so far was scut work, background checks and evidence compiling. The most he had to deal with on the beat was a few shoplifters and the flasher in the local park. As far as Callum was concerned, he was one of the herd here. A nobody.

It only took a few short raps on the door before a voice commanded him in. As soon as Callum stepped through, he was taken aback by the spacious office, with light sky flowing through the windows, and modern furniture dotted around the room. It was very different to his own work space; a shared and cluttered desk, and a locker that didn’t quite close.

“PC Highway!” Thompson exclaimed, walking over to him with a beaming smile. As far as Callum was aware, they had never met. The welcome seemed to ease his mind about why he was called here though. He had been racing through his brain all morning, wondering what he had done wrong, fearing he was going to be commanded into the office, sacked on the spot and dragged out by his toes. “Come on in and have a seat!”

DCI Steve Thompson gripped his hand tightly to shake it and then started to lead him over to the other side of the desk. Callum was baffled. Had he done something at work to earn himself a commendation? He would have thought that would be something he’d remember! Unless they’d started to give out special distinctions for rescuing a stray dog from a wheelie bin.

Callum shuffled slightly in the chair, squirming his legs until he got into a seated position that he hoped suggested professionality but also helped to keep the wriggling in his stomach under control. He spared a glance around the office; there was a starkness that travelled over the vast space, even the few scattered festive decorations seemed dulled and maudlin. By the window there was a small shelf of personal items, a framed photograph of Thompson with what Callum assumed was his family by the seaside, some summer holiday frozen in time. There was a couple of trophies, probably school football team successes that littered the space and a frames napkin, the writing faded and stained so it couldn’t be read. At least it gave the office some personality. All Callum had on his shared desk was a cracked coffee mug and a pen that didn’t work.

Thompson pointed to the large amount of files that sat on his desk with a roll of his eyes. “Thank God it’s Christmas, eh?” he huffed out, patting the pile in disdain. “Not that you’d know it around here! It’s not like we get to stop for long around this time, is it? It seems celebrating the birth of a baby in a manger brings all the seedy criminals out from the cracks at this time of year!”

Callum nodded, and tried to upturn his lips at the little joke. It wasn’t the easiest action to do though when he still didn’t know what he was doing here. Was he brought here to do the filing? That seemed ridiculous. Not only because there were plenty of people here that could do it, but his filing technique tended to be hectic at best.

“Suppose it’s why we all signed up, ain’t it?” he spluttered out, scratching at his thumb. “To help serve the public, make sure they can stay safe and enjoy this part of the year.”

Thompson looked at him for a moment, and Callum wondered what was passing through his mind. Something was. “Do you know what? You’re exactly right, PC Carter!” he said leaning back on his chair and folding his arms. “We all have to make sacrifices to protect the public. That’s why I’ve brought you here, actually.”

Callum didn’t know what to say, he was already working over the next couple of days. He wasn’t really sure what more he could offer. He’d signed up for New Year as well, so it couldn’t be the prospect of more overtime.

“Have you heard about the Walford Smilers?” Thompson blurted out. It took Callum by surprise.

“Who ain’t?” he replied, his response seeming good enough for the chief inspector. “They’re not exactly low profile in our line of business.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Thompson replied, disdain flowing freely in his tone. “Most of it was before your time though. The Mitchell brothers used to rule these streets, or at least think they did. There were others of course, but they disbanded or kept to the shadows. There was only room for one organised crime gang that side of the Thames, and Phil and Grant made sure of it.”

Callum had heard the stories. “Thought they’d both retired now?” he said, swallowing heavily. He still wasn’t sure why he was here. “Gone off to live the good life on the Algarve.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Thompson replied, and if he was impressed with Callum’s knowledge then his face didn’t show it. “Grant went first, left Phil in charge and not much changed. A few family changes, a few blips here and there, but they still ruled the area by and large. Then off Phil went a little while back. They say his liver was packing in, and after the old woman snuffed it, he went out to get some of that Iberian sun to live out his days.”

“That’s good then, ain’t it?” Callum responded. “They’re out the picture, the gang will falter and there’s one less crime group to waste our resources on.”

“So we fucking thought!” Thompson exclaimed, almost losing his calm exterior. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat. “Turns out there was something that we didn’t see coming. You heard of Ben Mitchell?”

“Am I supposed to?” he replied.

The detective let out an exhale of air. “I don’t think any of us thought we were meant to. He’s Phil’s unbeloved first born, a real runt of the litter we all thought would be drowned down the river when he was growing up. He weren’t exactly heir apparent as Queen of the Castle! Much to our surprise though, Phil handed over the family business to Mitchell Junior when he scurried off to Portugal.”

Callum thought it through. Thompson appeared infuriated by it, but surely it would only seem like something positive in his eyes. “He don’t have the same clout and reputation as the Mitchell Brothers though, does he? The other local gangs will be flapping around like vultures waiting to strip the carcass bare. The Smilers ain’t gonna last long. He ain’t as bad as Phil and Grant, is he?”

“As bad?” Thompson responded, letting out a humourless laugh. “Oh Callum, he ain’t as bad. He’s so much worse.”

“Worse than Phil and Grant?” Callum questioned curiously. “They’re notorious, though. The things they done you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.”

“Grant was always a loose cannon, always flying in with a temper before he even thought about what he was doing. He’d rip both your kidneys out and feed them to his dog before he even gave you a chance to defend yourself,” Thompson explained. “Phil was always the more thoughtful and considered brother. He’d only rip out one of your kidneys, but make you eat it yourself so he couldn’t be linked back to the evidence.”

“And Ben’s worse than that?” Callum asked wide-eyed.

“He’s unpredictable, PC Carter,” Thompson said with a sigh. “With the brothers you knew what you were getting. This little cunt though, he’s one of a kind. He likes to push, likes to tease, likes to make them suffer. Ben’s toxic and cruel in a way his old man never was! At the moment, it doesn’t look like The Smilers are going anywhere.”

Callum licked at his lips. It wasn’t that he wasn’t flattered to be discussing organised crime with one of the bosses, he was just waiting for the hammer to fall down and reveal his purpose. Why was he here? “What’s all this got to do with me, Gov?” he asked, wondering if his tone came out a little impatient.

“We’ve had some intel come in,” Thompson started to explain, not seemingly concerned about Callum’s impatience to get to the point. “Ben’s right hand man has left the business, gone off to live a legit life, full of white picket fences, with some bird. The word that’s come down is they’re looking to recruit, get some new blood into the Smilers. We won’t get an opportunity like this again, Ben ain’t exactly the welcoming with open arms to anyone type. We want to try and get a man on the inside.”

Callum looked a little surprised. There had been rumours that back in Phil’s day the Met had tried to put someone undercover, tried to integrate them into the gang. He didn’t know the full story, just parts here and there, but he knew it hadn’t ended well. It wasn’t easy to pull a fast one over the Mitchells and woe betide those that did.

“That’s great, Gov,” Callum replied. If Thompson thought he could infiltrate one of the undercover cops successfully, then good luck to him. He bit his lip, hoping he wouldn’t be too presumptuous with his next question. “Do you want me on the task force, Sir? I did some background checks and some evidence compiling on my last assignment and would welcome the chance to do the same on a high profile case. I promise I’d work all the hours in the office that I could, to assure the UCO’s safety.”

Thompson looked at him again, the way a tiger would eye up a deer. “No, Callum,” he said slowly. “We don’t want you to support UCO. We want you to be the undercover operative.”

What? Callum had to blink a few times, wondering if he was lost in a fantastical dream, or maybe he just misheard. “I don’t understand,” he said, the only words that were able to form on his lips at that moment.

“We’ve chosen you to go undercover as part of Mitchell’s gang,” Thompson repeated. “If we can get you in.”

It was clear he hadn’t misheard, but knowing what he was being asked to do really didn’t make it any easier. “I’m just a constable,” he stammered out. “I had my passing out less than a year ago, not to mention I’ve never even had a hint of undercover training!”

“All those things are what make you perfect,” Thompson assured him. “If I send in some UCO who has been trained up to the eyeballs, Mitchell will know. He’ll figure it out before our guy has even got a bollock through the door. Ben is many, many things, but he ain’t stupid.”

“Well if he ain’t stupid, then he’s gonna find out who I am!” Callum countered. “I’m a copper, I’m gonna be on some system somewhere, ain’t I? There’s gonna be files.”

Thompson shook his head as Callum was talking. “We’re the police, we can change a few documents, adapt a few files, that’s not gonna be a problem,” he said, trying to be reassuring. “Obviously you’d be in the UCO system, but that’s encrypted like a fucking son of a bitch. No one will be able to get into that. No one will find out who you are.”

“There’s gotta be hundreds of coppers that have the same training, and at the same level,” Callum suggested. “Why me?”

Thompson almost looked reluctant to say the next part. Almost. “I don’t mean to be rude, PC Carter, but we did a lot of background checking before making our choice,” the detective said, clearing his throat of the awkwardness. “We look into everything, including social media, and you don’t exactly leave a large footprint. It’s not going to be difficult to hide who you really are. It seems you’re doing that already.”

“There’s got to be pictures of me in uniform,” Callum added defensively. He knew that Thompson wasn’t wrong. He had never been Mr Popularity; he had never been the person that made friends easily, not real ones. There was no escaping the reality of the fact that people weren’t drawn to him. They came easily and then they left even easier, without a second sympathetic thought about how he may feel.

“We’ve found them all,” Thompson said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Like I said, it wasn’t hard; there weren’t a lot of congratulations on your Facebook page. Any pictorial evidence of you being a copper has already gone, the speccy techy boys have already taken care of it. As far as the world is concerned, PC Carter is no more.”

It should have disturbed him more than it did. The fact that he could just be wiped from existence so easily. It should have been upsetting, and it was in a way, but it just wasn’t a surprise. Callum knew more than anyone how he could fade back into the shadows without anyone caring, or even noticing. That was his life already. Now it had just become official.

“What am I gonna say I’ve been doing the past eighteen months?” he asked, and already the question sounded ridiculous. If he wasn’t able to lie about a job, how could he convince the leader of one of the most notorious crime families in London that he was one of them.

“We’ve changed all your army records,” Thompson replied. It was unnerving how much had been done before they had even asked Callum’s permission. “Made the dates so you left a little later. Then of course you had your injury.”

Callum’s hand’s gripped onto the arm of the chair at the mention. It was clear that the detective wasn’t impressed with whatever he’d read about his injury. He didn’t care. Thompson hadn’t been there. He wouldn’t understand.

“It works out in our favour actually,” the inspector continued. “Gives you a good excuse for the change of profession. There’s another thing, PC Carter. Your name.”

Callum’s whole body froze. Just by the emphasis Thompson had put on certain words, he knew what he was referring to, and it made the blood ice inside him. “You want me to change my surname for the job?” he surmised. He knew where this was going. There was no point playing the innocent now.

“I don’t want you to change it, Callum,” Thompson said with a knowing grin. “You’ve already done that. I want you to use your real name.”

“That’s why you really want me, then?” he responded, everything becoming a little clearer. “You know who I am.”

“We do,” the detective confirmed. He didn’t need to say anymore. “Something you failed to mention when applying for the force. That little slip could end a career.”

There was no ambiguity there. Callum knew he was against a wall, and all the friendly handshakes and small talk he’d experienced at the beginning of the meeting had quickly vanished like the smokescreen that it was.

“Right, what’s my story then?” he asked, his tone a little harsh. There was no option of refusal, so he may as well use this time to get as much intelligence as possible. He tried to think of the positives; assignments like this were why he joined the force, he wanted something exciting and challenging. If he could pull this off, then his name would be out there. It was an impossible task though, and he wondered what exactly would happen when he failed.

“It’s not going to be that much different. In a way, you’ll be lying less than you are now,” Thompson said, scowling over to him. “Same childhood, same army career, none of that will have changed. You’ll just have never joined the police. With your background, it’s not at all unusual you’d want to join The Smilers.”

“So what, I just stroll into their headquarters with my CV and ask for a job?” Callum asked with a huff. “Gonna look a bit suspect if I turn up out the blue, ain’t it?”

Thompson rolled is eyes with frustration. “Give us some credit!” he exclaimed. “We know what we’re doing; we’re not new at this! You think we’re gonna send you in with a big, neon sign over your head? That’s not how it works. Mitchell has put the feelers out. Those whispers go through a network; he don’t advertise with a billboard. If someone isn’t highly recommended by those associates he trusts implicitly, then they don’t even get seen, let alone a ticket into the arena.”

“How am I gonna get in then?” Callum asked. It seemed like a fruitless operation already.

The detective shuffled up in his seat, almost as if he were fluffing up his feathers proudly. “All our hard work has paid off, and luckily we’ve been able to infiltrate the network. We know someone, who knows someone, who knows someone. We can get you seen.”

“And that’s it?” Callum asked. Thompson was making it sound like it was easy from then on.

“Doubtful,” he replied quickly. “We can get you an introduction. The rest is all down to you. They’ll be something you’ll have to do, some way you have to convince Mitchell that he can trust you, that he can let you in to his inner circle. He’ll want impressing. You need to be careful, Callum. Tonight isn’t going to be risk free.”

“Tonight?!” he almost shouted out, standing up from his chair. He couldn’t be serious. “Ain’t that a bit quick?”

“Look, I’m not gonna force you into this, despite everything,” Thompson claimed. The annoyance in his voice suggested he was probably telling the truth. “The last thing we want is to shove someone in there and have them fuck it up with a half-arsed attitude. That will be a waste of all our hard work so far, and my dick will be cut off, stuffed, rolled and served on a silver platter to the Chief Constable! That being said, we need to move quickly. We’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for years, and we can’t miss it. It might not come again. If we could get someone on the inside, then it would be the break we’ve be waiting for. That kind of proximity to the core, all that information we could gather, could help us not only bring down the Smilers, but every organised crime gang in East London. Don’t you want to be a part of that?”

Callum nodded his acceptance. He floor was sliding out beneath him and there was no going back now.

“Good,” Thompson said, as he started to unlock a drawer by his desk, placing the key back on the surface. He flopped a large file down, pushing it towards Callum. “This has all the information you need. I know you don’t have long to read it, but we’re working on a deadline here. Get all the intel you can from it, and then destroy it. Burn it, shred it or eat it for all I care, but it can’t be left. Don’t go shoving it in the old lady down the road’s recycling bin; you don’t know who’s watching.”

Callum took the heavy file. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get through all this information in less than a day. “How will I know where to go tonight?” he asked.

“You won’t,” Thompson continued, sliding a phone over towards Callum. “Get rid of your old one, and when you go back to your flat, make sure it’s clear of anything that might look suspicious. It all needs to be done by the evening. The contact will text you details about the meeting tonight. That’s your mobile now. You won’t hear from me on it, this will be the last time we talk. If everything goes to plan, your police contact will get in touch shortly. Is that all clear?”

Callum gripped on to the large file and the phone, as he moved towards the door. It didn’t seem real, the fact he walked into the room just moments ago, and now he was headed towards what could be the turning moment of his life. For better or for worse.

“Callum?” Thompson called out, just stopping him from leaving. “You need to be discreet. This ain’t a joke. You know what they say about Mitchell? That all he cares about is ‘Motors, Musicals and Men’ and not always in that order. I’m not naïve. I’ve been in this business too long, and I know trouble when it struts up in front of me. He wasn’t a choir boy; he was in nipper’s nick, and not just for thieving a couple of Dib Dabs and a Cadbury’s Crunchie. He got sent down for walloping one of his mates when he was a kid, then back in a few years later for the same. If that’s how he treats his friends, you can imagine how he acts towards those who cross him. He did a stretch recently too, before he was given the reins of the business.”

There was a reluctance in Thompson’s speech, almost like he was standing in front of the pyre Callum was attached to, and holding a lit match. He was second guessing whether he should throw it. The detective moved round from his desk to stand in front of him.

“Ben Mitchell likes to play games,” he said quietly, almost like he was scared the man in question would be able to hear him. “He will tear you apart, nerve by nerve, just to see what you’re made of inside. He’ll try to destroy you just for the amusement of it.”

“I can handle it,” Callum replied. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to appear strong.

“Let’s hope so,” Thompson concluded, before moving back in the room. “Because you won’t get second chances. Watch your back.”

With that, Thompson went back to his paperwork, and Callum managed to fumble the door open and step out into the hallway. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he took a deep breath.

There were only a few hours to go. A few hours to become someone else.


	2. Let Me Entertain You

**Part Two: _“Mama…”_**

The driver put up an apologetic hand as he zoomed over a speed bump, the car hurtling off the road, seeming to be flying through the air for a brief second before it landed with a bump. Callum wanted to grip on to his seat belt, cling it to his body just to make sure he didn’t go hurtling through the windscreen. He couldn’t though, he didn’t even put it on once he was in the car. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was being watched yet or not.

After his meeting with DCI Thompson, Callum had left the building, trying not to look at anyone. The assignment hadn’t started yet, not really, but already he felt a buzz of awareness in his body. He felt a little on edge, but he knew he had to lose that quickly. If he walked into a meeting with The Smilers looking shifty, he would be thrown out by his ear. He probably wouldn’t even get to meet Ben Mitchell, their noted leader.

Once he got back to his flat, he scouted around, trying to locate anything that gave away his career in the police. There wasn’t a lot, he hadn’t lived here long. It was just a simple studio flat in the top floor of a converted terrace house. There were big, mossy damp patches on one end of the ceiling, creaky floorboards where the nails that would just slide out of them with a tug, the draft that came through the window pane made the air chill more than if you were standing outside and he had enough spiders to start an army. It was his though, at least until the landlord raised the already extortionate rent.

Always moving around, the time when he had a home, a permanent one, was lost long ago with memories that had flown away. Callum had always moved about, had done for years, and as a result there weren’t too many personal items in his flat. It had already come furnished, all he had to do was unpack his few clothes, set up the second hand tv he had bought and put sheets on the bed.

It didn’t take long to collect up the few pieces that showed his association to the police and place them with his phone. There was nothing else; anyone could look around his flat and not find out a single thing about him.

Once that had been done, he sat down on his bed and started to read through the file that Thompson had given him. There were pages there, and Callum scoured them all, devouring the information. It wouldn’t be easy to forget; some of the people, some of the crimes mentioned, some of the pain. He didn’t have to try to remember these things. They weren’t things that anyone could forget about.

As he browsed the last few pages, he heard a small beeping sound, one he didn’t recognise. He scrambled on the bed around him, picking up the mobile phone he had been given. There was no name written there, just a number and a short message: _‘petrol station. 7pm’_.

That was all he was told. No direction of what to bring, or who he would be meeting there. Not only would he be nervous about the meeting, but now he had to linger around the petrol pumps suspiciously and hope no one called the police.

It took Callum longer than it ever had to choose an outfit. There weren’t many clothes in his wardrobe to pick from, but he felt it was important to make an impression right off the bat. If only he knew what he needed that impression to be.

Keeping it simple, he pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. Faceless, generic and they would make it easy to just blend in. He didn’t want to stand out too much; he didn’t want to play his hand too soon and look like he was ready to take on the world.

Once Callum had pulled on a bomber jacket, he took one final look around his flat. It wasn’t as though he had framed photos of himself in uniform or anything, but he needed to look at it with a critical eye. There was nothing there, nothing that gave away who he really was.

It wasn’t a long walk to the petrol station, just down at the end of the road. It wasn’t busy that time of night; everyone travelling home a little earlier that Christmas Eve. There would have been cars going out, dropping off at parties, seeing family and making merry on this day. Not here though; that didn’t happen in this part of town.

The air was fresh on his cheeks, flicking and tickling relentlessly to pink them up. Callum’s nose was numbing, and he sniffed back against it. Leaning against a pillar, he put his hands in his pockets and dropped his head back, scuffing his foot against a bike that was carelessly dropped on the ground. This was his last chance. This was his last opportunity to back out, to throw it all away and get out and away. It wouldn’t take a lot. Just pick up the bike, get on and ride away. Runaway anywhere he liked, and keep going until he couldn’t anymore. He might be free.

The thought fluttered in distress and scurried back to its cage when headlights blinked a couple of times in his direction, and a black car pulled up onto the concreted ground. There was no further movement, no one got out the car, or signalled him from the window. Not that he could see through the blackened glass. There was nothing to give away what was happening inside. It was an unknown world he was taking on, with no clues or details to give away or help him prepare.

Pushing himself off the wall, he walked over to the car. He kept his pace regular, not slacking so it looked like he was reluctant, but not rushing to show his eagerness either. Lifting the handle on the back door, he took a last breath of this world, and pulled it open.

Callum slid onto the seat, the black leather providing little friction on the denim of his jeans. Almost as soon as he closed the car door, it started moving, clearly not wanting to stay in the same place for too long.

He was a little surprised to see he wasn’t alone in the car. Obviously, there was the driver, but the other three seats were occupied too, all with men. One seemed to be around his age, one a little younger and one a little older, but all were very clearly trying to make themselves appear casual. They were all nervous. Callum realised that these men were his competition. They were all going to be seen tonight.

Sitting behind the driver, Callum tried not to stare for too long at any of the other occupants in the car. He couldn’t be seen to be looking. He was though, and as the car continued to hurtle along the speed bumps, he made sure he assessed the situation.

The man next to the driver was puffed up, looking proud like a peacock that knew it was about to get its dick wet. Callum could tell the man assumed that because he was riding shotgun, it meant something important. That he was going to be chosen. Callum didn’t think so. It didn’t seem a conscious choice; he wasn’t sitting on a throne yet. The relaxed nature of the man behind the wheel suggested that the peacock was just simply picked up first.

There was a young boy, maybe no more than twenty who was sat next to him. He had his seatbelt on and was clinging to it tightly. There was a light putrid shade of green that was covering his face, and he looked like he was holding his breath so he didn’t hack up his guts onto the leather detailing. Callum wondered how and why he had been able to get a meeting. If he couldn’t stomach the car ride, how was he ever going to handle being in The Smilers?

On the other side of the queasy kid next to him, was an older gentleman, perhaps heading towards his mid fifties. He was looking out the window, and had been the entire time they were driving. He didn’t look stressed, or convey any excitement or nerves. That was his experience showing. It did make Callum think though. They were letting them see where they were going.

It hadn’t been how he had expected. He thought they might blindfold him, or at least have a car with a sectioned off back seat with dark tinted windows that you couldn’t peek out from. Instead, they were allowed to see very clearly where they were headed. The view couldn’t be clearer. That meant two things. The first was that they weren’t headed towards The Smilers headquarters or any one of their sites. They weren’t going anywhere of any significance to the police, nowhere that could be traced back to any criminal activity.

Then, there was the second, more worrying reason. The Smiler’s driver wasn’t just letting these men see because he thought they would all remain loyal, even if they didn’t get in the gang. It was because they would make sure of their silence. They had that power. A fox doesn’t care if a rabbit sees its den.

After about twenty minutes, the car pulled into an old industrial estate near a canal. The trees and bushes were unkempt and overgrown, and a few stray brunches reached and clattered the top of the roof with scratchy, warning fingers. The car slowed, and the driver immediately got out. For a second, all the other men looked at each other, just for the briefest moment they caught each other’s eyes. They had to follow.

Callum opened the door, and got out, a few stones crackling under his feet. It seemed even colder here, in this dark, derelict place with just the moon for lighting. It was a place of hopelessness and despair. It finally felt like Christmas to him.

He held the door open for the queasy kid behind him, who staggered out, wobbling a little, before stabilising himself. He gave Callum a nod, before looking around in horror, clearly wondering if his small act of subservience was being watched and count against him. That wasn’t how this would work though.

Callum followed the driver, a short walk towards an abandoned warehouse nearby. Plucky Peacock gave a slight run to the front, just a hop-step behind the driver. He was still trying to exert authority, still wanting it to be seen that he was proving himself, trying to get himself some extra points. That still wasn’t how this would work.

The window-gazing, older man was at the back, even further than the young boy who didn’t seem to want to step more than two feet away from Callum. He hoped the kid didn’t see him as a form of protection. He wouldn’t be able to help him if he wanted to succeed in his own assignment. It was each man for himself. They were all on their own.

When the reached the warehouse, Callum noticed a few more cars nearer to the building. People were already here. He wondered why the driver parked them so far away. It was probably like everything else; to let them know they weren’t on the inside yet, but they needed to obey like they were.

The driver pulled open the door with a sheeting rattle and dull artificial light beamed out. He signalled for the men to enter, and Callum couldn’t help but think of them like cattle approaching the slaughterhouse. The farmer opening the door and waving them goodbye. He’d brought them this far with care, but that didn’t mean it would continue.

Stepping in, the frost seemed to build, the difference between the air inside and outside not changing, but the attention on them certainly did. There were about half a dozen of them, all immediately glancing in their direction. Now they were being watched.

“Cheers, Ads,” one of the men said towards the driver. He was older and strolled towards the men as if he wanted to be in an abandoned warehouse on Christmas Eve as much as he’d like his knackers eaten by a reindeer. “At least you got them all here in one piece! With your driving, I’m surprised they weren’t gonna be scraped off the road by the gritters in the morning.”

“All present, correct and with all the bits they came with out the box,” Ads responded, walking over to an old desk that was propped up against the wall. He snatched a lighter from there, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. His job was over for now.

“Right, over here with the other two then lads,” he older man said, as he ushered Callum’s group towards two other men that were already standing in the middle of the floor. “Come on, get in a line!”

“Better hurry up, lads,” a grizzly looking man commented from by the wall, picking at his teeth with a toothpick. “Boss comes in and finds you fluttering around in a girls’ gaggle, adjusting your knocker holders, he’ll hang you all in a row on the nearest electric cable.”

Ben wasn’t here yet. That much was clear, as Callum and the rest of the men started to line up. He was keeping them waiting.

“Bit much, ain’t it, Flash?” the scrawny looking man snivelled in the corner, muttering out in contempt, before swallowing heavily when the man in question flicked his toothpick at him. “Don’t wanna scare them off!”

“This ain’t Cuddle Camp, Bill,” Flash replied, pulling a new toothpick from behind his ear. “If they get scared from a few words, then they need to fuck off out of it and back to their mum’s houses to wank away the night. Just cause you got the Mitchell name, it don’t mean you got a say about who can be a Smiler.”

“Will you both shut up!” the older man called out with a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “Standing there squabbling like a couple of kids!”

“Oh come off it, Deakey!” Flash remarked with disdain. “If those boys over there can’t deal with a little friendly tease, then they ain’t gonna last a minute. I mean fuck me dry, that one there looks like he’s about to pop up carrot chunks. Hardly the best of the best he’s got here! What did he ask you to do? Throw a dart at the phone book?”

Deakey gave Queasy Kid a supportive slap on the arm. “You’d say that to his face, would you?” he huffed out. “Sounds a bit like rebellion, don’t it? You want to move on, you know where the door is!”

Flash popped the toothpick into his mouth and started to chew it up, before spitting it onto the ground. “Alright, Deaks,” he said, his voice softer and as conciliatory as Callum supposed it could get. “I’d say keep your hair on, but that motherfucking ship’s sailed, eh? You know the only way I’d leave the Smilers is in a box. When ain’t I followed orders? Me and Nookey done more for the family than most, ain’t we Nooks?”

Callum’s attention was drawn to a man who had stood quietly until now. He was huge, clearly here for the muscle he provided. He looked as if he could crush a human like a grape in his fist. With the mention of his name, he sprung up from the wall, his head darting to and fro. “What’s that Flash?” he asked, glaring towards the men in the line. It was like he hadn’t even seen them come in.

“I said we’re loyal, you sleepy twat!” Flash shouted with a shake of his head. “I don’t know how you ain’t done a stretch! It’s a fucking miracle with your shit for brains!”

If Nooky was insulted by the comment, then it didn’t register in his body or his face, and he simply nodded. “Nothing I wouldn’t do for the boss,” he claimed. “Like that job down Brixton way when we-“

“Nooks!” most of the men shouted at the same time. He looked around in confusion, before Deakey took pity over his obliviousness. “Probably best not to spill out secrets in front of the line up, eh?”

Before anyone else could answer though, there was a bang on the door. Every head turned towards the intrusive sound. It wasn’t the wind blowing, that much was clear.

There was another bang, and then another in quick succession. They continued, building speed and intensity until finally the door rocketed open, thumping the wall with an almighty crash.

“Evening, Gentleman,” said the man who entered, stepping through the door like he was making a grand stage entrance, striding out of the wings to a gripped audience. “Not late, am I?”

This was Ben Mitchell. Callum didn’t need an introduction. Even if he hadn’t read all about him, just the slight meek head lowering of everyone in the room, would point to the knowledge of who was in charge.

Ben swaggered in with a walk that was designed to draw attention. He was holding a stick in his hand, a metal pole perhaps, that he was twirling in his fingers now that his percussion performance and been completed. Callum kept his head mostly forward, just a slight edge to the right with his chin so his eyes could wander up and down Ben’s body.

There was a sense of youth there, a little bit of free mischief that betrayed his age. The twinkle that hovered in his eyes was searching for naughtiness, trying to pull it towards him so he could dance and play with it. Callum looked towards Ben’s lips, caught between his teeth as though he was holding in his tongue that wanted to wriggle loose and set about causing some damage.

“Let’s not beat about the bush, shall we?” he said, striding nearer to the line, hitting the stick against the floor to punctuate every syllable. “I’m usually one for a good bit of foreplay, but I think this time we’ll just go balls deep straight off. It is Christmas after all, and I’m sure we all want to get home intime for the reindeer trotters to hit the roof.”

“They’re all here, Boss,” Deakey said, nodding towards Ben.

“Cheers, Deaks,” he said, squeezing the older man’s arm, and for a moment, just a flicker, Callum thought he saw his face soften. It may have just been the light fluttering over the slight colour in his cheeks and haloing a glow in his hair. It went as soon as it came though, and he turned to face them all with a resolute arrogance. “You all know why you’re here. We’ve had a vacancy pop up in the business, and I want to keep the organisation as strong as possible. We don’t want anyone thinking that the Smilers don’t keep a tight grip.”

Ben started to wander up and down the line, examining all the men, trying to look for strengths maybe. Or more likely trying to spot weaknesses, Callum thought. He didn’t look like he would miss a trick. This would determine how convincing Callum’s lies could really be. This was the ultimate test.

When Ben reached him, he didn’t make eye contact at first, he almost didn’t look at him at all. Just a little flick up to his face before moving down to the last man on the line who he spent much longer giving the once over.

Callum didn’t know whether to feel insulted or not. Ben spent the least time looking at him. Had he written him off already? It wasn’t just about Callum convincing him to let him join the gang anymore, it was about beating out all the other men around him.

“You all come highly recommended by people we trust,” Ben continued, strolling back to the front of the line. “However, they don’t have the same high standards that I do. We’re not running a lemonade stand here! Consider this your audition; impress me, entertain me, give me a bit of razzle dazzle. I’m not here to take in any placeholders, gentlemen.”

Ben walked to the front of the line and tapped the first man on the shin with the metal pole he was holding. It was one of the lads that was already here when Callum’s group turned up. “And who are you?”

“Salty, boss,” the man said. He was short and stocky and had a face that looked like it had been ravaged by a hamster before being hit by a truck. “I know Cooler Dave down Catford way, been working with him for a few years now. I’m ready to step up now though.”

“Ain’t Cooler Dave been nicked recently?” Ben said, his neck craned slightly towards Deakey in question.

“Yeah, a job went wrong a few weeks ago, had the cops swarming around the old post office headquarters,” Deakey responded.

Callum remembered that job. He wasn’t involved but it was a high profile enough case that word got around the station. Someone on the inside had tipped them off.

“I heard there was a grass and poor old Dave took the fall,” Ben said astutely, still tapping at Salty’s shin. “That weren’t you were it? Seems a bit off that you made it out and you’re currently walking around without a copper with his nose up your bum.”

Salty shook his head. “No, Mr Mitchell!” he said with a worried stammer. “It was just luck. I just got out before the filth got there!”

“So you ain’t a grass, but you are a coward?” Ben surmised, his face looking unimpressed as he began to move on. “Real great start so far, Deaks!”

Ben gave a heavy exaggerated sigh, an unnecessary critique that would make the man feel he had no hope. Maybe he didn’t. It would all depend on how Ben took to the rest of the line.

“Lucky number two, come on down!” he said, gesturing with his open palm to the second man in the line, that was also there when they arrived. When the man just responded with a blink, Ben’s shoulders sank. “Fuck me, Deaks, where did you get this lot? The local Sad Wankers shop having a six for one deal?”

“I’m here for the cause, Mr Mitchell,” Number Two said, his face still frozen in seriousness. “I’m dedicated to everything you and the Smilers stand for and will do my best to provide a service to you.”

Ben squinted his eyes at him in confusion. “The cause?” he choked out. “Do I look like Pudsey the Fucking Bear, to you? This ain’t a charity for you to dabble in a bit of anarchy on your gap year, sweetheart! We’re the fucking hottest gang in East London!”

Number Two looked hurt by the accusation. “I can assure you that’s not the case, Mr Mitchell!” he pleaded. “I would do anything for the Smilers. I would die for you!”

There was an echoing all around the barren metal of the warehouse as Ben burst into a loud laugh. Number Two furrowed his brow. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

Ben’s face dropped very quickly back into a snarl, and he bared his teeth at the man. “Die for me?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Die for me? What’s so hard about that? Any old fool can die for someone, and in our line of work it’s sometimes the best way to go. You know what really shows dedication? Killing for someone.”

There was a drop in Number Two’s jaw, but no words escaped. “That’s something that really proves devotion, that really shows loyalty. Death is easy, it’s over within seconds. Killing though, that sticks in here,” Ben muttered, pointing to his head. “That never goes away. That’s fucking dedication to a cause.”

There was a silence that descended over the warehouse, just the sound of Flash’s next toothpick being gnawed noisily in the corner, as Ben moved on to the next man in the line up.

“Is this a fucking wind up, Deaks?” Ben said, looking at the man before him and shaking his head. “Is some twat with a camera gonna jump out and tell me I’m the next star of a prank show? This fella looks about twelve, and I’ve seen more meat on a gerbil’s cock! Add to that, the fact he looks like he’s about to blow out today’s lunch! Where did we find him? Staggering off the Waltzer?”

Deakey leaned in slightly closer. “This is Big Nicky’s boy, Boss,” he whispered, and Ben’s face dropped a little of its harshness. “Colin said Buddy was looking for some work, got a kid on the way.”

“We can’t just take anyone,” Ben said, rubbing his forehead. “We have standards, Deaks! He comes to us and I’ll be sending him back home to his unborn child with his head separated from his body after five minutes!”

Buddy seemed to pale even further and Callum could practically see his knees knocking from where he was standing. Ben moved on though, and he appeared to breathe a sigh of relief, wiping the perspiration off his brow.

Next up, it was the Window Gazer who was in Callum’s car. There was no trembling from him, no stammered response or pledges of devotion. He simply cocked his head at Ben and stuck his hands in his pockets. There was no impression of subservience, and they could all sense that. Callum knew that he wouldn’t want to obey any orders.

Ben looked at the Window Gazer for a few seconds. “You’re Michael May, right? I’ve heard of you; I know you do solid work,” he said, still eyeballing the man. Michael seemed to smirk at the fact he was known. He seemed to think it gave him some power. Callum didn’t think so. By the look on Ben’s face, he was going to show the man exactly what he thought of him. “Get on your knees.”

Michael’s smirk dropped, and Callum’s lip couldn’t help but quirk at the reaction. He steadied himself quickly, not wanting either man next to him to see. “What?” May questioned, cocking his ear as if he had misheard the order.

“Get on your knees!” Ben gritted out, banging the metal bar on the floor with every word. Michael staggered back a step. “Oh don’t be so pathetic! I ain’t gonna get you to service me in this dirty old warehouse. I do have some standards. Also, I don’t sample the company ink, things get far too complicated. Now, I’ll say it for the last time. Get on your knees.”

Ben gripped the bar in his hand tightly, not moving a muscle. Michael seemed to think through his predicament. He’d played his hand far too early. That was his problem. He hadn’t thought ahead, and now he his bluff was being called. Now, he was showing his true colours.

Reluctantly, Michael got onto his knees, shuffling down while kissing his teeth, as if he still didn’t know he was beaten. “That’s better,” Ben replied, grinning down at him. “Now suck my cock.”

Michael started spluttering, as Ben burst out into laughter again. “I’m joking!” he called out. “Jesus, Deaks, none of these fellas got a sense of humour, have they? How can we have a gang called the The Smilers with members walking around like Christmas just got cancelled. Relax, Mikey! You’re a bit old and decrepit for my taste anyway. I prefer something a bit nicer to look at when I’m getting my end away. Speaking of which!”

Ben’s eyes suddenly darted towards Callum, and he licked his lips before taking the few short steps to stand in front of him. This time, his gaze did linger, lasering all over Callum’s body inch by inch, before finally meeting his eyes. There was a conversation there, but it was as if they were both speaking a different language for now. “What do we have here then?” Ben asked, his voice low. Callum tried to keep his face neutral, tried to make sure his body didn’t react outwardly with the same bubbling that was going on inside. He licked his lips. “This one any decent, Deaks, or have you just brought him for me to look at? I must say, I feel a bit guilty at only getting you a six pack for your Christmas present when you’ve got me this.”

Callum tried not to let his cheeks colour, attempted to not let his breath be audible. He swallowed it back down his throat and it pounded tightly on his chest. He couldn’t react. That’s what Ben wanted.

“He’s a Highway, Boss,” Deakey explained, and Callum almost flinched at hearing that name again. It had been so long since it was said in his presence, since it had been used to describe him. “The youngest boy.”

“Jonno and Stuart were decent guys,” Billy said behind them. “Awful business that.”

“I reckon I might have even met this one when he was a nipper,” Deakey continued, while Ben met Callum’s eyes again. They were asking a lot of questions. He couldn’t give any answers.

“Well, he’s all grown up now, ain’t he?” Ben exclaimed, and he started to rub his hand rhythmically up and down the metal pole he was holding, his rough palm scraping the surface and squeaking out in long strokes with ever increasing speed. “Does it speak?”

“Only when it’s got someone impressive to respond to,” Callum barked out, before biting his lip to stop himself from speaking any further. Ben’s hand had stopped at the edge of the pole briefly, pausing momentarily before he swirled his fingers around the tip.

“Hmm, might pass,” Ben said, squinting at Callum, using his thumb to massage the tip of the metal. “Can’t say I’m not tempted, but you’re all razzle and no dazzle.”

Shit. Callum knew he shouldn’t have let his temper flare and speak out. He’d lost control for just a second, and appeared to throw it all away.

Ben moved on to the last man in the line, the Proud Peacock who now fluffed up even further at the fact the rest of the men had all seemed to fail miserably. He clearly thought he was the certain winner.

He didn’t even wait for Ben to begin talking. “I’m Thomas Baker, Boss,” he started, standing up proud. “I know you would have heard of me. I’m here to be part of The Smilers, and I won’t fuck you about. I know how to do the job, and I’ll make sure I’ll do it for you.”

“Would you do anything I asked you do?” Ben asked, grinning towards the man. It didn’t seem right though.

“You’re the boss, Mr Mitchell,” Thomas replied. “I’m at your service.”

Ben nodded his head, and Thomas smiled back happily, pleased that his talk had gone so much better than the previous men. He seemed like an obvious choice, a fitting one and probably very soon the actual one.

Making his way over to Flash, Ben held out his hand, wiggling his fingers in request. Flash patted himself down before reaching inside of his jacket pocket, pulling out an item and handing it over. Ben walked back over to the line, holding the object out in front of him. There was cloth around it, but it was clear before he even started to unwrap it what it contained.

Thomas’ eyes lit up when Ben passed the gun over to him, taking it eagerly as a sign he was in the gang. He smiled, feeling the object all over with his fingers. “Good piece,” he said, nodding up to Ben in thanks. “I think I can handle this nicely.”

“Fantastic,” Ben said evenly, before taking a few steps back and pointing towards Michael who was still on his knees. “Shoot him.”

Both the man holding the gun and the man on the ground barely moved, as if they assumed it was just another joke. “What?” Thomas laughed. “You’re kidding right?”

Ben’s face was held high, and he brought his hands up to pull the collar of his leather jacket tighter around his body. “I ain’t seeing a lot of the obedience you just claimed to have, Thomas! Now, hurry up because Ads has got two kids sitting at home waiting for him to get back so they can put a mince pie out for Santa. It’s a clear instruction!” he called out, waving the pole to the kneeled man. “Shoot him!”

Michael started to look around the faces in the warehouse, searching for an answer, searching for a way out, searching for something. Whatever he was trying to find, he didn’t get from the gang members, who all stayed in their same positions, unmoved by his predicament. “He can’t do that!” he stammered out. “You ain’t going to get him to shoot me.”

“You, shut it!” Ben said, cracking the metal pole on the ground, before turning back to Thomas who had shuffled neared to Michael. “Come on! Don’t say you’ll do fucking anything and then stand there holding your dick floppy in your hand! Get a move on! I’m so sick of shitting liars and bullshitters! Come on!”

Thomas raised the gun, his finger flinching on the trigger. He couldn’t keep it still, his arm trembling, and he now looked more nauseous than Buddy the queasy kid. There was a thick tension in the room, as Michael was still looking around, his eyes darting towards the door. There were too many of The Smilers around though. He wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before he was stopped. His only chance was if Thomas lost his nerve.

Ben threw his hands up in the air. “Fucking typical! You ask one thing-“

The sound of his voice was drowned out by the shot that ricocheted and bounced though the air. Even a few seconds later it still sounded as loud, still echoed in Callum’s head, pounding inside his mind.

Callum blinked back, the clouds in his eyes clearing, as he took in the scene around him. There was shock on the face of The Smilers. They didn’t think he’d go through with it, clearly it was a test that Thomas wasn’t meant to pass.

The other three men in the line up looked ready to bolt, just in case the gun was turned on them next. Buddy was hunched over, clearing the contents of his stomach onto the concrete ground with a splatter, his retching and choking filling the air.

There was a clear smell of urine though, and as Callum looked at Thomas on the ground, his hand still poised in a shooting position, he could see the stained trickle that was dripping down his trouser leg. It was barely registering on the man’s face though, as he was breathing heavily in gasps at the adrenaline shock.

Finally, Callum looked towards Ben, the metal pole now laying at his feet where he dropped it with the sound of the gunfire. There he was, finally. The façade of power momentarily dropped from his face to reveal the fear and shock that would always live behind it. It was only present for seconds though, before the mask went back up. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Callum’s hand though.

Ben wouldn’t stop staring towards his fingers. At Callum’s hand that had shoved Thomas out the way, prised the gun from his loose grip, put it against Michael’s head and pulled the trigger.

Callum looked down now. He finally looked down, his hand still gripped tightly around the gun, red raindrops splattered garishly against the paleness of his knuckles. His gaze travelled lower to the body on the floor, nerves still twitching, surrounded by an ever increasing scarlet moat with large goops of gore floating around.

Turning sharply towards Ben, Callum looked towards him until he finally lifted his stare and met his eyes. “That dazzle you enough?” he spat out. His voice was harsh, his breath getting stuck on the inside of his throat as his heart struggled to keep up with it’s need to pump faster. The smells around him; the piss still streaming down Thomas’ leg, the rancid acid of vomit from Buddy and the fleshy rawness of Michael’s brain spread out on the floor, brought bile up to Callum’s throat. He swallowed it back down harshly. He swallowed it all down.

“Is he dead?” a curious voice asked behind him, and it seemed to finally shake Ben back into the real world.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Nooky?” he gasped out, before clearing his throat to gain his composure. “The back of his skull has practically flown through the roof of the warehouse and up Rudolph’s arse! Of course he’s sodding dead!”

“Fuck’s sake, Nooky!” Flash responded, as both he and Ads lit a cigarette. “No wonder that Chelsea job didn’t go to plan if you still can’t tell if someone’s dead or alive! Half this geezer’s brain is covering Highway’s face and you think he’ll pop back up if we stick a plaster on the back of his head!”

Callum felt a touch on his arm, and he looked over to see Deakey looking up at him. “You can drop the gun now, son,” he said gently, uncertainty in his eyes. Callum did as he was told, throwing it away so it hit the floor conspicuously. “What do you want us to do, Boss?”

Ben frowned, his mind clearly turning over, but he was gradually composing himself, and as he rolled his eyes dramatically, it was clear he had hidden back again. “Well, I don’t think a mop and bucket is gonna do a lot, is it?” he chuckled out. “Right come here, lads.”

Walking towards Callum, the other Smilers followed suit, joining Ben as he got close to Deakey. “Billy, you drive that first lad over to Cooler Dave’s gaff,” he said in a whisper. “I’ll bet you anything that they’ve been looking for him since that job turned bad.”

Billy nodded, before heading off, signalling for the still shocked man to follow. His surprise at the situation was probably for the best. It was like numbing a pig before you slit its throat.

“Ads, drop the anarchist and Big Nicky’s boy back home, and let them know to go to the office on Monday,” Ben continued, as slight protests were made from the men before him. “I know! I know! But they’ll make decent workers, nothing on the frontline, neither can hack it, but they’ll put in a good day’s graft.”

Flicking his cigarette to the floor, Ads strolled over to the two men, having to practically drag them out the warehouse. Ben turned to Flash next. “Take that thing on the floor back to his home and all, make him clear off the piss before he sets foot in one of my cars though!” he ordered, holding a hand up when Flash clicked his knuckles. “Take him home, right? I don’t need anyone sniffing around his disappearance. Get some security though. Make sure he knows what could happen if he squeals on us.”

“Alright boss,” Flash mumbled out miserably. “Can’t I at least give him a smile?”

“No!” Ben hissed back. “I’m serious Flash! He turns up at the local A and E with his face messed up, then the old bill will start asking questions that I ain’t in the mood to answer right now!”

Nooky scooped up Thomas, whispering contempt in his ear as he practically dragged him out the door.

That just left the three of them, and Callum knew that this could only go one of two ways. He hoped he’d made the right call.

“What do you want me to do, Boss?” Deakey asked, the hesitancy clear in his voice. He knew what he could be asked. “What do you want me to do with Callum?”

Ben looked up at him, his eyes softer in a way, but with a veiled uncertainty. An outdoor cat who wouldn’t quite come through the door. He reached into his pocket and brought out a handkerchief, bringing it up to Callum’s cheek and wiping. “Take him to your house. He’s belongs with us now.”

“I can’t take him home with me!” Deakey exclaimed, as Ben brought the handkerchief back down. There was a red stain right in the middle of the pure white material, Callum noticed before it was tucked into the back of Ben’s pocket. “If I turn up with him covered in blood, she won’t be happy!”

“Well, you won’t notice the difference then will you!” Ben huffed back. “I’m not saying take him like this. Go to Mr Taylor’s. Get him washed down, and then fitted for all new gear.”

They were talking as if Callum wasn’t there, but that was a good advancement in his eyes. He had earned an iota of trust. “It’s Christmas Eve, Boss!” Deakey protested. “He’ll be shut by now!”

“I’m not asking you to take him to bloody Tesco!” Ben hissed back. “Taylor works for us! I don’t care if he’s got his head nestled in whatever bit of pussy he’s currently pounding! Drag him out of his house and get what I want!”

“Alright, Boss!” Deakey conceded. “What about here? You want me to sort it out?”

Ben shook his head, looking around at the carnage before them. “Nah, I’ll deal with it. You get him cleaned up and off home,” he said with a sigh at the job ahead, before looking back up into Callum’s eyes. “My little dazzler here makes quite a mess!”

Callum almost apologised, the words almost slipping from his lips. They got caught in his throat though. He didn’t need to say sorry.

“Thank God it’s Christmas, eh Callum?” Ben continued, before nodding to Deakey to lead him away. “Only a short break though. I want you back and at work this time tomorrow.”

As he was led away, Deakey pulling softly on his arm, Callum turned his head back and looked at Ben. He was staring towards the body in front of him, any bravado gone from his shoulders. It was his responsibility now. He’d let Callum in, the actions speaking louder than words ever could. This new life for Callum had only just begun.

Ben was alone now though, having to deal with the mess they’d made, the pressure of being a front man taking its toll. It wasn’t all fun and games.

Heavy lies the head that wears the crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist
> 
> Chapter One  
> 'Somebody to Love' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aA2IRoPFIn0  
> 'Radio Gaga' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-0ygW-B_gI  
> 'Thank God It's Christmas' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qw2TD91Nytg
> 
> Chapter Two  
> 'We Will Rock You' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tJYN-eG1zk  
> 'Dead On Time' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7kN2QJRSdI  
> 'Bicycle Race' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYv0uWonOZQ  
> 'Let Me Entertain You' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GMAjjzU9Do


	3. Fight From The Inside

“Just let me do all the talking, alright?” Deakey said anxiously, turning off the ignition. “That way we might have the slight chance of sleeping inside tonight!”

Callum scuffed his foot against the carpet mat. He didn’t want to go in the house with Deaks, but he had nowhere else to go either. There was no choice.

When Deakey had led him out the warehouse, he noticed all but two cars were gone. The only ones left were a flash, red sports car and a black hatchback. The older man reluctantly let go of Callum’s arm, before going to the boot of the black car and opening it up. He started to curse, rummaging around before he pulled out what he was looking for. Moving to the back seat, Deakey unravelled a dust sheet, shaking it out and setting it over the upholstery there.

Beckoning Callum over, he waited before he was settled in the car before shutting the door. The plastic rustled around him with every tiny movement. He kept his arms in his lap, not touching the door. He knew to do that.

The car sped off down the estate, quicker than they had on the journey there. Deakey wasn’t speeding though, not once they got onto the roads. He kept the pace even and steady. The last thing they wanted was to be pulled over by the police; the risk was high anyway with it being Christmas Eve, the coppers all on the look out for drink drivers. They would get a shock if they pulled over a car they thought had a shandy too many, to find a rookie plod in the back doused in blood splatter.

Deakey pressed an earphone into his ear before hitting a few buttons on his phone. “It’s me,” he said after a few seconds. “I need to bring someone in. I know what day it is, but boss’ orders! We’ll be there in ten.”

There wasn’t any conversation between them, and Callum wondered what Deakey thought of him. It couldn’t be the first time he had witnessed someone be killed. From what he had seen and heard at the warehouse, Deaks had been in this business a long time. You couldn’t do that without seeing more than a little bloodshed.

After another few minutes, the car pulled into an alley, submerging into the shadows. Deakey turned off the engine, before hurrying out and opening the door for Callum. Once he was out, the man pulled out the dust sheet, carefully folding it in on itself. Poking his head out the alley, he gestured for Callum to follow.

It was a few short paces before they passed a shop, a simple men’s clothing store that you wouldn’t even blink without missing it. It wasn’t something many people would go into. Around this part of town, most people would get their clothing from the high street shop brands or the market. Those that did want something more unique and personalised would go further afield. He was surprised that the business managed to survive at all. It was an anomaly. It shouldn’t be here.

Deakey gave three sharp raps at the door, not at the front entrance by the shop front window but squirreled away by the side. It was red, but weathered with flaking paint. There was silence at first, and Callum wondered if they were in the right place. It was dark down this way, away from the street lights and any bustle and hustle of the fast moving world on the outside. A secret under a toadstool. It must be the right place.

The door clattered open and a man looked them up and down, half in frustration and half in disgust. He was in his late fifties, slicked back salt and pepper hair and wearing a grey waistcoat that was perfectly pressed and fitted. The shirt was pristine white, with angled creases and metal sleeve garters symmetrically placed. Once he had finished sneering in Callum’s direction, he gave another snort of disdain before opening up the door.

“I appreciate this, Mr Taylor,” Deakey said, nodding in deference as he wiped his feet on the scratchy rough mat, before stepping through. “Especially it being Christmas Eve and all. The Boss won’t forget it.”

“I am being paid, Mr Deacon,” Taylor’s voice rang out, deep and lumbering through the air. “I’m not here out of the kindness of my heart.”

The blackness of his eyes stood out, darting and lasering into Callum’s face, so much so that he didn’t think the man had a heart. There was probably just a crumbling rock there.

“Well, either way,” Deakey continued, beckoning Callum to step inside. “The Company doesn’t look past your loyalty.”

Taylor gave a gruff huff, before his face transformed into even more of an appalled sneer when looking Callum up and down in the harsh light that beamed down from an orange glowing bulb loosely hanging in the corridor. “And who is this? I’d say by the look of him, it’s the victim,” he said snidely, wrinkling up his nose. “There was a time that hitmen used to do the job without even an eyelash out of place. This one looks like he did the job blindfolded, fluffing around like he was playing ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’ with a machete. Has the Company lessened it’s standards with the changing of the guard?”

“I ain’t no hitman!” Callum blurted out. He knew how it must sound, standing there in some gang associate’s seedy corridor late at night, covered in someone else’s blood.

There was a wry chuckle that escaped Mr Taylor’s throat. He had already tainted Callum with a brush. There was no escaping that. And perhaps he was right. “Well, I think that’s something we can both agree on, Mister…”

“Highway,” Deakey answered for him. “He’s a Highway, Mr Taylor. I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m sure we’ve both got places we want to be.”

The gentleman looked at Callum curiously, almost examining him. “A Highway, eh?” Taylor responded, and Callum thought he detected a little less disdain. Perhaps just a touch. “Well, let’s get him cleaned up then. Do you want the works?”

“No, no!” Deakey answered quickly. “We don’t need none of that. Just a good clean up and a complete new set of clothes. Boss’ orders.”

“Right, I’ll get the apparel sorted,” he said to Deakey, and Callum felt that he was measuring him with his eyes. “Send him into the back to purge his body.”

Callum was led along the hallway and practically pushed into a bathroom by Deakey who dropped the dust sheet in the corner before stepping out. Callum hooked the small bolt into its catch, and finally let out a breath now he was alone. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours since he was standing outside that petrol station. Why did it seem so long ago now? How had everything slipped and changed in just moments?

He pulled the fraying piece of string that swung from the panelled ceiling, the lights buzzing on, encasing the bathroom in blue draining light. There was a mirror on the cabinet door, precariously hung and with smudges on the glass. They stained Callum’s face when he looked at his reflection. Blurred the red splatters there and seemed to blot them further into his skin.

Blinking away the reality, he turned to the shower. It was clean, fastidiously so, but the grime was present everywhere. The sealant was peeling off the tiles which were cracked in places. The decades of limescale build up had left irremovable scars. It was spotless, yet falling apart at the same time.

The activity as the warehouse couldn’t help but plague Callum’s brain. It taunted and poked at him. It wasn’t what he had expected. He had tried to run every scenario in his head before hand, to make sure his actions wouldn’t look suspicious, but he still hadn’t been able to predict the outcome.

As Callum began to remove his clothes, he felt a weight in his jacket pocket as he took it off. Reaching in, he grabbed out the phone that Thompson had given him. A thought trickled into his head. He should call. The events at the warehouse were too big not to explain and reassure. It wasn’t as though The Smilers would ever find out; it was a pay-as-you-go mobile, he could delete the call and no one would be the wiser if they checked.

The police would have questions over what happened. Callum knew he had to do it, no matter what the risk. He knew it could be dangerous, even as he thought he heard Deakey pace outside the door. The sound of the shower would cover the noise of the call. He would be quiet and quick.

Turning up the dial even further, so the water patted down loudly onto the tile, Callum started to type in the number.

Once he was out of the shower, he grabbed a towel that was thrown over the rail, wrapping it around his middle. He hadn’t thought this part through. His clothes were in a pile in the corner with the dust sheet that Deaky had put there. They obviously weren’t meant to be put back on, and he wouldn’t ever see them again.

Callum tentatively opened up the door, peering through while gripping tightly to his towel. It was dark, and silent. It was like a scene out of a bad dream, no detail or description within the setting, but a huge sense of foreboding.

Outside the door, in a neat pile and contained in cellophane bags, was some clothing. Callum took them into the bathroom, changing carefully. It didn’t feel strange to him to wear clothing that wasn’t of his choosing. It would be the first time. Oddly though, it was almost identical to the outfit he had removed a little while ago.

Once he was dressed, he decided to make his way out of the bathroom, the steam emerging from the unventilated room. He had wondered if that was on purpose. Perhaps people that were brought here had tried to escape, attempted to get away before they were noticed. Only once they were in, they discovered there was no way out.

It didn’t take Callum long to find Deakey, hovering in a bare room with Mr Taylor, packing up some more items that were all pristinely wrapped in their plastic wrappers. He zipped up the holdall and gestured towards the door. “Come on, son,” Deakey said, and the tone in his voice suggested he didn’t want to be there any longer than he had to. “We better get cracking.”

Callum followed Deakey out and into the car. He was allowed to sit in the front this time, no plastic sheet necessary. They didn’t speak for the entire journey. The radio was on low, the pop jingle of some eighties Christmas number one, full of electronic synthesisers and monotone vocals. Nothing with any passion or power.

Now, Deakey had pulled over into a space in a narrow street. It was decked from one end to the other in terraced houses, all red and rust with brick clones for as long as the eye could see. After giving Callum a pep talk he didn’t quite understand, the man motioned for them to both get out the car.

The path with the cracked paving led to a simple yellow door, one of the numbers of the ‘22’ hanging precariously on a nail into the brickwork, wobbling with the slight breeze. Deakey scrambled around for a key in his pocket. There was no sound from inside the house, and for a second or two Callum wondered if it were all a trap. Perhaps he was being led to some gang den where he’d have his throat slashed on the spot.

Callum shook the thought away as soon as the door opened and warm light bled out. Deakey nodded at him to wipe his feet on the mat that sat just inside, and he did as he was ordered.

“Where the heck have you been?! It’s gone eleven!” a voice squealed out, and thumping footsteps marched down the carpeted stairs a little way into the short hallway. The woman that came into view stopped on the step third from the bottom, frozen with a fixed pursed mouth and a glare aimed at Callum, as she stood frozen in her dressing gown and slippers. “What’s this?”

For the first time, Callum saw Deakey look genuinely scared. “This is Callum, Mary,” he said clearing his throat a little. “He’s come to stay with us for a bit.”

There was silence, as neither occupant moved, and Callum felt he needed to speak to break the tension. “It’s nice to meet you, Mary,” he stumbled out, dropping the holdall that Deakey had given him, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “I’m sorry about this.”

She looked at his outstretched hand as though it were holding a hand grenade. “It’s Mrs Deacon to you, dear,” she insisted, her voice firm. She turned her head towards her husband. “I thought we talked about bringing your work home with you?”

“You’re allowed strays in the house and I’m not?” he asked, a scoff in his tone before he clearly thought the better of it. “It weren’t my choice, Mary! The boss insisted.”

Mary walked down the last couple of stairs her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “The boss? Ben Mitchell, you mean? You’re getting yourself ordered about by a boy?”

“Mary!” Deakey hissed, almost as if he were afraid that the leader of The Smilers was standing next to them.

“Don’t take that tone with me! I’ll call him as I wish!” she insisted. “I spat on his scrapes and wiped his nose when he was no higher than a door knob! I won’t pretend that he ain’t just the same scared littlun that he was back then. I ain’t afraid of him, Frederick!”

“You want me to throw this boy out on Christmas Eve?” Deakey asked, pointing towards Callum. He felt awkward, standing in someone’s hallway and being discussed like this. Instead, his eyes darted to the wonky strand of thinning tinsel placed precariously around a faded picture frame hanging in the hall. “He’s a Highway, Mare. He’s not a bad lad.”

Callum bit his lip. It was almost like he had imagined what happened at the warehouse now he was changed into a fresh set of clothes. He didn’t know what his actions made him, but it certainly wasn’t good.

“He looks very clean,” she said suspiciously, eyes drawing all around him. “That’s a worry.”

Callum understood what she meant. Mary Deacon clearly wasn’t some oblivious housewife that turned a blind eye to whatever her husband got up to when he kissed her goodbye in the morning. It would have been less of a concern to her had Deakey brought home some tatty looking waif that had a dodgy glint in their eye. Mary seemed smart though. A well dressed young man appearing in the middle of the night could only bring danger that was hidden.

“He won’t bring no trouble, Mary,” Deakey said, before nudging him with his elbow. “Will you, Callum?”

“No!” he insisted quickly. “I really appreciate you letting me stay.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as though she was thinking it through. “Fine, but take your shoes off. I won’t have you dragging mud onto the carpet!” she ordered. “I don’t suppose either of you have eaten? You’re lucky I saved extra for your tea, Fred!”

Callum was nodded into the lounge by Deakey. It was a simple room, just an old three piece suite and an artificial Christmas tree sitting boldly in the corner. The dark green strands glowed slightly with the reflection of the multicoloured lights that blinked lazily. The tv was rolling on in the background, the light beaming out as the canned laughter of some repeat of a Christmas special plastered through.

It was a few minutes later that Mary came back through the door, carrying a tray. “It’s steak and kidney,” she announced, practically dropping it onto Callum’s lap. “It’s a couple of hours past its best, but it’s hot.”

Callum looked down at the meal; flaky golden pastry steamed into his eyes, as thick meaty gravy poured out of the slice, coating the plump pieces of meat with a shiny glaze. There was soft mash on the side, filled with fat and smooth with cream. Buttered peas gleamed on the plate, fresh and crisp with an emerald green glow. No one had ever made him a meal like this. Not that he could remember.

Mary brought in a tray for Deakey and they all sat down, tucking into their dinner as they had half an eye on the television. Callum felt he was on a show, that’s what this had to be. Suddenly torn out of his lonely life and plonked right in the middle of a family home. He almost started to get comfortable, to slide into the domestic life that was woven around him.

Callum tried to take his tray out to the kitchen when he had scraped his plate clean, but Mary simply pushed him back down and lifted it off his lap, her slippers clopping with every movement.

“Don’t tell her,” Deakey warned as soon as his wife had slipped from the room. “About the warehouse. Don’t tell her any of it. She thinks she knows a lot, but she don’t it all.”

It brought Callum back into that world, into his life. He may be sitting in this domestic cave, but that wasn’t the bones of his existence. It was just the pretence. There was too much lurking in the shadows to be anything else.

“Here we are!” Mary announced coming into the room and handing Callum a plate. “It’s a homemade mince pie, so no comments either of you!”

Callum devoured the pie almost in seconds, the spices of winter blending in the air and onto the back of his pallet, just enough to taper the intense sweetness, while the thick, gooey cream slid down the back of his throat with ease.

While they were all eating, the sound of carols came through the tinny speakers; the trumpets signalling the angel’s voice. It was mesmerising, watching the candles flickering in the screen and the choir’s celestial tones bounced through with harmony. It was like they were calling to him, beckoning him to judgement. He always thought he would be something more, and now the angelic voices were berating him for his choices.

“Right, well I think it’s time we were all off to bed, don’t you?” Mary announced as she switched off the tv and stood up. “You can have our Grace’s room, Callum. First up the stairs on the right. You have everything you need?”

Callum nodded, though in truth he wasn’t sure what he had. The holdall Deakey had given him was still sitting in the hallway. He didn’t want to ask Mary for anything though. The feeling of imposition was already high.

“Right then,” she said, clapping her hands together. “You go and get sorted, the bathroom’s just at the top of the landing, and I’ll bring you up some cocoa.”

Bidding Deakey good night, Callum retrieved his bag from by the stairs. He found the room easily enough, pushing open the squeaky door and switching at the light. It was decorated in faint pink, like a faded rose, with just a simple dresser and mirror against one wall and a wardrobe and single bed against the other. The only detail in the room was a small vase of lily of the valley on the chest of drawers. There was nothing else of any individuality in the space. It fit him perfectly.

Unzipping the holdall, he began to pull out the clothes in there, hanging them in the wardrobe or placing them carefully in the dresser. It wasn’t much, some jeans, jumpers and shirts but it was enough. They’d even included a small toiletry bag in there, and Callum opened up some of the bottles with a curious sniff. My Taylor seemed to have discerning taste, and had included everything he wanted or needed. Was he so predictable?

After he found the bathroom and cleaned his teeth, and changed into some jogging bottoms and a t-shirt for bed, he pulled down the duvet. The sheet was immaculately pressed, and looked inviting. Before he could settle, there was a swift knock on the door, and Mary came buddling in, her cheeks red, blushed and rounded.

“Right, here we are then,” she announced, putting the mug down on the dresser. He realised he’d already cleaned his teeth but the smell of the rich chocolate pulled him in, and he eagerly took a sip. The liquid scorching his tongue slightly and tingling with the mint. It was always a guilty act, such a childlike emotion, to feel sinful for having something sweet when you’d already brushed your teeth for bed. He wondered what it said about him that the simple act was what had brought him the most guilt out of anything that evening. “You all sorted?”

“Yeah, thanks Mrs Deacon,” he said, not helping himself but to go back for another sip. “I’m sorry that I’ve imposed on you, at Christmas as well.”

“That’s alright, dear,” she replied, giving him a small pat on the shoulder. “I suppose the good Lord had a reason for choosing Christmas Eve to have a traveller turn up on my doorstep. If you get cold, there’s a spare blanket in the bathroom cupboard, the window over there can shake a bit with the wind so just wiggle the frame a bit and it’ll stop, and if you in any way put my Fred in danger then I will rip out every hair from your body one by one, roll them in to a ball ready to shove down your throat to choke on, is that clear?”

Callum gulped slightly. He didn’t have an answer, well not a truthful one he could give. So instead he settled for a natural response for him. “Of course. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt him,” he lied, hoping it was convincing under the woman’s harsh stare. “You don’t have warn me. I know what I’m doing.”

“You think you know what you’re doing? You aren’t the first Highway I’ve ever warned in my life,” Mary replied, her eyes darting around his face. “But hopefully you’ll be the first to listen. Don’t be late for breakfast.”

When she left the room, Callum closed the door behind her, wanting a moment to himself. The door didn’t shut, it would only be pushed closed, there was no latch there. Anyone could come in at any moment without him hearing. Perhaps that was the point.

There was an eerie silence in the room as he crawled into bed. Usually, he would put the television on as he tried to sleep, let the bumbled pictures and words distract his brain for long enough to fool it into falling asleep. Now though, he didn’t have anything, and that’s when his mind seemed to tick in to action.

The moment from the warehouse kept playing in his head, each time more detail added. It had been so quick at the time. It was over before he had even made the choice. Now though, it was like every second had been slowed down to an hour. He’d known it would be easy to grab the gun out of Thomas’s hand, he was holding it so loosely and all the muscles in his arm were too busy trembling to keep its grip. He never would have done what was asked of him. Callum had sensed that.

It wasn’t like in the movies. He didn’t pull the trigger and then Michael fell and swooned like a blushing maiden, a trickle of blood falling from his temple. It had imploded him from the inside out, destroyed him and rendered him dead faster than his body could catch up, his muscles still jerking from the absent messages sent by the brain that was spilt on the ground. He saw every drop of blood, burnt into his memory the look on the man’s face when he died. Callum was a soldier and a policeman; death wasn’t an absent friend. It plagued his life like a stalker, never shying away from showing him its true, ugly face.

It was the expression on Ben’s face that he kept playing over and over again though. He must have looked as soon as his finger retracted on the trigger. Something had wanted to see his reaction. It hadn’t been disappointed. He looked shocked, genuinely so and Callum wondered when the last time that happened was. They had met with their eyes, just briefly, maybe not enough for Ben to remember, but Callum certainly had. At least he did now, and it had made him feel like he knew the man a little more. 

As he kept playing the look on Ben’s face over again in his mind, laying in wait with open eyes, he heard a creak behind him. The door was opening.

Callum’s eyes darted up to the window. There were stormy skies up above, but it wasn’t rattling, so he knew it wasn’t the draft that caused the door to swing open. His ears picked up sound, faint footsteps along the carpet. It was a trap. It had to be. The Smilers had found out everything and they were going to end him here.

There was nothing he could do, but he thought that once they got close enough he could spin around, try and take them by surprise. Not that giving someone a kicking was really a match when they had a gun pointed at your head. Callum counted up to ten as the sounds got closer, and when he reached his target he felt a pressure on the mattress. He whipped around quickly, surprised when his fist met with empty air. Instead, the assassin sat on the bed and mewed.

Callum brushed his hair out of his face as the small black kitten started to scratch its claws into the perfectly pressed sheet. Mary was going to kill him. Although, he assumed it was the Deacon’s cat. At least he hoped so. Mary would definitely not think twice about impaling him on top of the Christmas tree if he’d somehow dragged in a stray cat to the house that had scratched up the best sheets.

In truth, he wasn’t sure what to do with it as the kitten started to bat its paws at the drawstring on his joggers. If he threw it out the room, it would only come back in a few seconds time, there was nothing stopping it opening the door. Instead, he settled on his side, leaning on his arm, while his other hand scratched the cat gently under the chin, a small short purr of approval emitting out of her chest.

It was calming in a way, just petting the cat in time to his own settled breathing. The tears still stung at his eyes, threatening to fall, but his mind had softened from its harsh images. As he started to drift off, he felt a warmth by his side.

The cracking and banging woke him, and he could feel a chill on his back. The brighter sun was beginning to beam through the window to start the day. Callum staggered off the mattress in a drowse and headed towards the glass, quickly shaking the frame a little to shut out the draft. Once it has stopped its movement, he headed back to sit on the bed. He gave the semi poking at his joggers a half hearted rub. It had been too long. It wasn’t exactly the right time to take care of that now, especially with the lack of privacy in the house and the sweet and smoky waft of bacon that travelled to his nose.

Callum’s stomach growled, letting him know that was his most pressing priority. Pulling on some clothes, he grabbed the still sleeping kitten from by his pillow and made his way downstairs, letting his nose lead the way to the kitchen.

“Morning,” Deakey mumbled, sitting at the table. He was still in his dressing gown and pyjamas, and it threw Callum a little. It almost made him forget that this was one of the leading players in organised crime in the capital, rather than just a middle aged accountant. “I see you’ve found the demon.”

“Oh stop it, you!” Mary scolded, playfully slapping her husband on the arm as she came and grabbed the wriggling ball of fluff and claws from Callum’s arms. “She’s a little angel, aren’t you Queenie?”

The cat mewed in response as Deakey scoffed, eying the little black cat suspiciously. “Little troublemaker that you insisted on taking in!” he replied, before turning to Callum. “She found it outside by the bins. Probably abandoned by its own mother, tiny matted lump of fur it was. Mary insisted on keeping it.”

“Well you can’t really complain now you’ve brought him home, can you?” Mary explained nodding towards Callum, before placing the kitten down carefully at her feet. “No offence, dear. Right, who’s for breakfast?”

Callum happily tucked into crispy bacon, still dripping with grease, eggs with gooey yolks and crunchy edges, sausages with smoky barbequed griddled marks that were still juicy inside and buttery toast, all smothered in brown sauce and ketchup. Once he was done, Mary took his plate before slipping a small wrapped package under his nose.

“It was meant for him,” she said pointing towards Deakey who was trying to kick away Queenie with his foot. “But he’s got enough already, and I can’t let you sit there empty handed on Christmas.”

Callum grinned at the sight before him, and rubbed his finger along the thin paper, tracing the patterned Santas merrily perched on a green background. He couldn’t remember the last time that someone had given him a present, and certainly not a wrapped one. Eagerly, he started to tear at the wafer thin material, the scrunching and ripping sounding joyful to his ears. When the paper was off, it drifted to the floor and Queenie started to attack the intruder. Callum smiled at the five set of socks that were before him, each a different bright colour. “Thank you. They’re amazing,” he said gratefully.

“You don’t have to be nice on her account,” Deakey said, tutting as he engaged in a battle for the paper with the cat. Callum wasn’t though. He was genuinely touched. “You haven’t heard where she’s taking us this morning, yet.”

Callum folded his hands into his lap and cleared his throat. It seemed to echo around the whole building and his body automatically shifted at the awkwardness. He really didn’t expect to find himself here on Christmas Day, and to be honest, church was the last place he wanted to be after last night.

Apparently, the Deacon’s always went on Christmas morning, and Callum questioned it as Mary got ready upstairs. “It helps her copes with things,” Deakey explained. “Helps her to make sense of everything.”

“What about what we do for a job?” Callum replied. “Don’t it make it a little suspect to do what we do and then waltz into church?”

“Callum, a saint is just a sinner who has repented,” Deakey explained. “No better and no worse. We’re all saints, we’re all sinners. None of us are perfect.”

“Some people ain’t like that though,” Callum insisted. “Some are rotten right down to the core. They’re bad through and through.”

Deakey cocked his head at him, but then gave a reluctant nod. “Perhaps there are a few people that are purely altruistic, and maybe a few who have a bit of stone where a heart should be. That ain’t most of us though. The rest of us just battle through somewhere in between. The missus likes to go make her confessions to the Big Man on our behalf.”

An hour later, Callum found himself standing in a pew, sharing a hymn book with an elderly lady next to him who had to be only four foot tall, with eyesight so bad she was practically sniffing up the words. Singing ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ wasn’t part of the assignment, and just being in this building led him to feel a daunting sense of guilt. The whole place screamed to all the lords and ladies in it to fear it, and commanded the very souls of the unbelievers.

“Does praying help?” he asked Mary, as they made their way out of the church. Deakey dropped a wad of cash onto the collection plate, widening the eyes of the choir boy who was holding it. The vicar didn’t even blink, just shook Deakey’s hand with a smile. The man of the cloth knew who they were. It amused Callum a little, to see how even a servant of God could justify problematic actions. They all did it. Everyone in this church.

Mary linked her arm in his, pulling him out of the holy house. “It doesn’t hurt, Ducky.”

“Jesus, Nook! How did you manage to fuck that up?”

Callum edged closer to the door. There were five of them squished into that car, and the air was stifling. It felt so intimate and enclosed. He felt exposed in such a small environment.

When they had returned from church, Mary had pulled out the turkey that had been cooking in the oven while they were out. She gave Callum’s hand a smack and shooed him out the room with a laugh when he ripped off a bit of bacon from the top to eat.

An hour later, and the dinner was ready. It was like something from an advert from the telly, Callum thought. Lumps of glistening white turkey with golden brown skin still steaming, broken crisped roast potatoes that were like fluffy clouds on the inside, mountains of stacked veg that were buttered and fresh. All covered in thick gravy, rich with wine and stock.

It was probably the best meal he had ever had, in fact the past three meals had been better than he had in a long time. It seemed absurd to go to all this trouble when it was just him, when there was no one to share it with and you had a ridiculous amount of leftovers.

As soon as dinner was finished, Mary’s face noticeably dropped as Deakey got his coat and beckoned Callum to follow. They had been given orders, to meet Ben and some of the other Smilers. They both walked briskly a few roads down before Callum spotted the car speeding towards them, hopping up on the kerb.

“You driving us about as a treat for Christmas, Boss?” Deakey said to the driver, as he stepped into the back seat shuffling up next to Nooky. “Or you just trying to get us all caught on the speed cameras?”

Ben grumbled at the comment, as Callum squeezed into the seat behind him, pulling the door shut. “You know me Deaks, I’m nothing if not a magnanimous leader,” he said, pulling out and then swearing at a bike that wobbled near him. “I’ve given Ads a bit of annual leave as he’s the only one of us that has kids.”

“Annual fucking leave?” Flash exclaimed in the seat next to Ben. “I didn’t know that was a fucking thing! I’d have put in my claim for that years ago!”

“You like it up the arse, then Flash?” Nooky called from the back seat, his brow creasing questioningly.

“Shit me, Nooks!” Flash replied, shaking he head. “We said annual! Annual! As in yearly! Fuck me up, no wonder that job went wrong yesterday.”

Deakey put his face in his hands. “Oh God, what happened?” he asked, as Flash exclaimed his annoyance again. Callum’s heart stilled a little. The last thing he wanted to hear about was the disaster of last night, especially if it dug a deeper hole for him.

“I told him to make sure that little rat didn’t squeal,” Ben remarked, putting his foot down when the light switched to amber. “I can put it all around town that he pissed himself when seeing a fresh stiff, but we needed more than that. These two goons were supposed to do that!”

“Don’t look towards me, Boss!” Flash exclaimed, holding up his hands. “I made sure that mother fucker was scared out of his life! I didn’t put a finger on him, but still pretty confident he shit himself with a few choice words on what I’d do with his thumbs once I cut them off. I did my part! It was Nooks that was responsible for the other bit!”

Nooky sniffed back his upset at the disappointed glances he was getting. “It weren’t my fault, Boss!” he added, his massive lip pouting. “The instructions just weren’t as clear as I was used to.”

“You’ve done it a hundred times!” Ben exclaimed, hitting the wheel. “All you had to do is get the person closest to Master Baker, tie them to a chair and film them looking all woeful so you can text it through to the fucker. Give them a bit of an idea what else could happen if they grass.”

“Who did you get, Nooks?” Deakey asked the man next to him curiously.

“I got his tortoise,” he muttered back out of his large body.

Callum almost gave a snort of laughter. “He got a fucking tortoise!” Flash exclaimed. “He was supposed to get their nearest and dearest, not a fucking overgrown snail! I went in there and he had the little bastard tied to a chair! Ropes tight around his paws and everything!”

“Tortoises don’t have paws!” Nooky spat back, giving a kick to the back of Flash’s chair.

“An expert now are you?” Flash replied, craning his neck back. “I didn’t realise you wet Attenborough’s dick on the weekend! Little fucker weren’t even moving anyway. Probably been dead for six months.”

“It was hibernating!” Nooky remarked. “That’s what they do. I weren’t gonna torture one when he was awake, was I? I ain’t fucking cruel, Flash!”

“Fellas!” Deakey called out suddenly, as the car slowed down. “We’re not exactly showing our professionality here, are we?”

Callum knew that the attention would turn to him now. “New boy’s a bit quiet,” Flash murmured suspiciously.

“He ain’t here to join debate club, he’s here cause he looks good,” Ben remarked, shutting off the engine. Callum felt annoyed that after all he did yesterday, he was still being patronised. He gave a clear roll of his eyes at the comment. “And to give a barrel full of attitude apparently.”

“Perfect job for him really, our line of work with a name like his,” Nooky commented. “I watched all about the Highway men on one of those documentaries.”

“You watch history shows, Nook?” Deakey questioned.

“Nah, he saw that it had a Dick in it, and hoped there would be plundering of a different kind,” Ben remarked, before turning his eyes to Callum in the rear view mirror. “This one here’s got balls.”

Flash snorted next to him. “Blew the cocksucker’s head clear off his body! He’s got something you’re interested in, Boss, and it ain’t just his dick and balls.”

Ben waggled a finger in the man’s direction. “Now, now,” he warned. “You know my rule. We’re all professionals here, gentleman. Even if we can’t tell the difference between someone’s cherished nana and a fucking tortoise.”

They all got out the car, as Nooky continued his protest. “What’s the deal here, then?” Deakey enquired. “Big job?”

“Nope,” Ben replied popping his mouth on the syllable, and staggering ahead of them, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just a few boxes of gear we’re collecting.”

“You need all of us just to collect a few cartons?” Flash asked in disdain, drying to keep up with Ben’s pace while he strutted ahead.

“There’s a change in the wind, boys,” Ben said with a grin looking back. He didn’t seem disturbed by this, more willing it on. “There’s something big coming, and I ain’t just talking about Callum’s cock.”

Ben turned around and winked at him with a grin. “Sorry,” he continued, though by the look on his face he was anything but apologetic. “Just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you.”

“Nah, Ben, you’re gonna have to try a bit harder than that,” he responded. “Takes a big man to get me going.”

The other three men stopped and stared at him, eyes comically wide. Apparently, it wasn’t the done thing to speak out against the boss, and probably not to use his name either. Callum didn’t care at this point, though he knew he should probably bite his tongue. It was only his second day undercover and he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as perhaps he should have.

Ben turned and squinted, chewing at his lips. “Good. The bigger the better, I always say,” he remarked, marching on ahead. “I like a challenge.”

They all walked on a few steps further, before Ben turned towards a door. He gave it three swift kicks with his foot. “Come on!” he shouted, after a minute. “I don’t fancy blowing your house in, but I’m not standing out here waiting on Christmas. Open up, Tubbs!”

There was a loud metal clanging from the other side of the door, before a man sleepily opened it. “Yeah, alright,” he said, standing back so the group could get in. “Not exactly discreet, are you? The whole sodding neighbourhood heard you.”

“You know me, Tubbs,” Ben said walking around the room. It was a bare and almost empty stock room with a staircase leading to another floor. “Hiding in plain sight was always my strategy. Where’s this gear then?”

Tubbs nodded to a few boxes stacked up by the wall, before running his eyes over the group. “You’ve brought a boyband with you, just to collect a few bits of gear?” he questioned. “What’s going on, Mitchell?”

Ben walked up and down the room, scratching his chin dramatically as if he were genuinely wracking his brain for the answer. “See, a little tweetie told me that you would know exactly what was going on,” he explained, propping himself up against the wall. “Or is that all bullshit and you’re too busy upstairs wanking away to the Queen’s speech to know about that?”

Tubbs smiled, clearly knowing more than he was letting on. His eyes fluttered towards Callum, piercing and judgemental. “I don’t know this one,” he said, nodding over at him.

“He’s belongs with me,” Ben said, clenching his teeth in annoyance. “That’s all you need to know.”

Tubbs approached him, walking up and looking at him from head to toe. “Don’t look much. I don’t think I’m happy with spreading news when I can’t trust one of your boys. I ain’t gonna take a risk if the fella you hired to knob you starts pillow talking around town.”

“He’s with me,” Ben said firmly, pushing himself off the wall and striding quickly over to the man. He was nowhere near his height, but he put the force of his position into the air. “That should be good enough. What do you take me for? I know I got a reputation, but I don’t let anyone into The Smilers to be a wallflower. I get your organisation might not be so expertly run. Just cause you confess all your secrets to any throat you jizz down, it don’t mean I follow suit. I got high standards. Clear?”

Tubbs clicked his tongue before holding his hands up. “Alright!” he replied. “If you vouch for him, that’s good enough for me. There’s word coming down about a job, not any old one, a game changer if you wanna throw your hat in the game.”

“There’s always a job,” Ben replied. It seemed to Callum that he already knew something though, already heard rumours and just wanted them confirmed. “What’s so special about this one?”

“The Holy Grail they’re calling it,” he replied, puffing up a little bit at the display of knowledge. “Not a lot of manpower needed but enough gained that can wipe the whole board back to the start. Could knock you Smilers off your perch, if you ain’t careful.”

“Cheers, Tubbs. Boys, you start getting the boxes back to the car,” he said, pointing the cases. then looked back and waggled his finger towards himself. “Come on, Callum. You can show me your package out the back.”

Callum stood still for a minute and frowned, before he noticed Tubbs chuckling. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, he flipped him off and followed after Ben, clenching his jaw together at the man behind him still laughing.

He was so frustrated he walked determinedly into Ben who was standing outside the door. “Easy tiger!” he said, setting Callum right again with his hands on his arms. They lingered for a second, just a moment more than they had to. “My, my, you do have a temper, don’t you? Let me know if you plan to dazzle all over Tubbs; I’ll hold off paying him for the gear.”

“What do you want?” he snapped, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. This day seemed to bring out some strange emotions in him. He was supposed to be undercover and hiding all this away, instead so far it had only brought out memories and things he had tried to kept buried.

Ben didn’t seem to take kindly to the tone, narrowing his eyes, his silhouetting shadow dominating the pale wall behind him. “Well, I was gonna have a little chat, a heart to heart where we care and share our feelings,” he clenched out. “But as you don’t seem in the mood for small talk, I just thought that you might like to know that I managed to get the little mess you made cleaned up last night about ten minutes before the rozzers turned up. You’re welcome, by the way!”

Callum ignored Ben’s huff, focusing on only part of the sentence. “The police?” he asked, swallowing heavily. He hoped it didn’t notice.

“Yeah, the police! You know, those fellas with big helmets that storm in battering their truncheons while waving their handcuffs about,” he remarked. “Oh, actually I might be describing a club in Clapham I go to every other Monday-“

“Ben!” he insisted, and he knew he was losing his cool. He knew he was doing a rubbish job of hiding.

Giving another sigh, Ben leaned himself to the wall. “I’m not sure I’m quite on board with your back chat tone yet,” he said, almost in a growl. “Yeah, it’s hot but that’s only gonna get you so far before it really gets on my tits at the wrong time, Sunshine.”

Callum nodded and signalled for him to continue. Ben’s eyes were transfixed on something else though. Bending down he signalled to the lace on Callum’s trainer which had come undone. There was just a silence as he tied the lace in a double bow, before giving an extra knot to the end of one. It was intimate and subservient an act. It didn’t quite fit but at the same time seemed to rightly make sense.

Ben stood up, rubbing at his face, a little softer but just for a moment again. “Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but it was a little bit odd that the boys in blue turned up at some shithole of a warehouse at eleven on Christmas Eve.”

“One of the other guys in the line up?” Callum suggested, his foot still seeming heavy from the touch. It sounded like a convenient suggestion, but an obvious one too.

Ben gave a shrug and a little shake of his head. “Nah, I’m not one to mess with at the best of times, and that lot would barely say boo to a goose hanging in a butchers window. They ain’t up to taking me on,” he remarked. “It could have been just a coincidence, some couple out taking a late walk and heard us.”

“Do you think that’s what it was?” Callum asked, hoping that was the case. Ben didn’t seem to have much doubt in his voice though.

“I hope so,” he answered, pushing himself up off the wall and heading towards the door. “If it weren’t, that means it’s one of us, and they’ll only dream about the sort of quick death that Michael May got. I will destroy any man that dares abuse my trust.”

It was too late to take anything back now. Callum knew that; he had to defy the laws of nature and come out alive. He had to stand up and face the music of his choices.

He just hoped that Ben didn’t find out what they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist - Chapter Three
> 
> Fight From The Inside - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aau_kEtNV2U
> 
> Back Chat - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKBUBXowC58
> 
> Lily of the Valley - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7K1_g31H0s
> 
> Seven Seas of Rhye - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=38xkDA_Q9rU
> 
> Drowse - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JcXxYWEbBEE


	4. Killer Queen

When Callum got back to the Deacon’s house, he gave a friendly smile to the couple, and then made the excuse he was going to have a shower. He went up the stairs as calmly as possible, so not to draw attention to himself. His heart was rocketing into his mouth as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door, his hands fumbling to lock the catch behind him.

The conversation with Ben kept ringing over in his mind the entire time they were driving back. It had surprised him a little; that Ben had almost been caught by the police, but that was all he had said to any of them. There was no other discussion, no screaming or shouting about the fact he was minutes away from being discovered standing over a dead body. He was calm, rational and seemingly unflustered about it all.

That could only mean two things. The first was that Ben really did believe that it was a coincidence. That some old couple taking a Christmas Eve walk down by the canal really did hear the gunshot and were worried enough to call the law in. That didn’t sit right with Callum though. Ben wasn’t the new, fresh-faced naïve leader that maybe some would paint him as being. He had a mind that was always ticking, and the simplest and most mundane possibility would never be the answer he ran to. There was no way on earth that Ben would think it was something so accidental.

That only left the last option. Ben wasn’t frantic about who called the police because he already suspected who it was; he had a name in his mind. Dragging that person out and putting a bullet in him, or throwing him in the canal with concrete shoes wasn’t his style. It was like Thompson had said; Ben would want to play with them, bat at them with his paws and dig in a claw to their tail. He wouldn’t rush it, he’s drag it out and make them suffer.

Reaching into his pocket, Callum brought out his phone, opening it up and checking that the number he had rung on Christmas Eve was deleted and there was no sign of the call anymore. The last thing he needed was Ben getting hold of the phone that Thompson gave him, finding the number and asking questions. He wouldn’t exactly be able to answer them truthfully, and he had too many lies flowing to throw another one into the mix.

Scrolling through, there was no evidence left of the call, as hard as he tried to find one. He’d done his job and got rid of any breadcrumbs that were ever scattered. If Ben found it and rang the number, then it would give everything away. There was nothing there. Ben may think that Callum was the one that gave him up to the police though. Certainly he had to be the first name on his mind; he was the new boy. Callum had one advantage on his side there; he was the one that pulled the trigger.

Ben would keep on pushing at him, keep trying to see if he would snap, but the question of doubt would be there. It would be strange for Callum to bring in the police when he was the one who ultimately committed the crime. There would be doubt there, especially with the fact that there were other men in the line up with him. Ones that weren’t trusted, not part of the inner circle of The Smilers. Some had now been brought in, and some hadn’t, but none of them had earned any trust yet. Ben could believe that it was one of them; Callum wasn’t the only one in the spotlight.

After quickly having a shower, he wrapped a towel around him and scurried back into his bedroom. The chill goosepimpled his skin, the heating around the old house barely radiating through the walls. He was just about to drop his clothes down on the bed when an intruder stared up at him.

Queenie gave one of her paws a lick dominatingly, before looking back up at him. He sensed that it was a battle of wits to claim the bed. This was not a fight he could sense he could win, so he placed the items right on the edge, but she still batted at his belt with a claw.

“Right, I’m going to take this towel off now,” Callum warned in a whisper to Queenie. “Keep your paws to yourself, you hear me?”

Getting some clothes out ready, he turned slightly so he was facing away from the cat who cocked her head curiously. He wasn’t going to turn his back completely, no matter how much more protected he’d feel. He kept one side slightly turned as he pulled on his boxers and then slipped a clean top over his head.

The cat was still looking at him curiously, and thankfully hadn’t launched herself over to scratch up his skin. After pulling on his jeans, Callum walked over to the bed and gave her a pet to thank her for her restraint. She purred at him, please that her willpower was being rewarded. “Shall we go downstairs?” he asked, making his way to the door. Queenie ignored him. She wasn’t about to be ordered about in her own home by an interloper.

Callum spent the rest of the evening curled up in one of the armchairs, watching Christmas specials on the TV. Mrs Deacon had control, and Deakey kept dozing off through the endless entertainment variety shows and sitcoms that were on in sequence. She seemed to enjoy them though, and the pleased woman commentated her way through them all, narrating her opinions and feelings throughout.

He didn’t mind at all. Instead, Callum just sat there with his plate of cheese, crackers and piccalilli and listened to her voice wash over him. It was comforting, just to have that tone constant in the background, to remind him he wasn’t the only person in the world. He couldn’t really remember how he spent last Christmas night, probably just passed out on the sofa in darkness, alone and in quiet solitude. This was better. Despite everything, this was better.

The next few days passed in a similar fashion, with Callum just sitting and watching television with Mrs Deacon, lifting his legs up when she hoovered around him. He’d go sit on his bed, Queenie pressed and purring into his side and read an old battered crime novel that sat on the bookshelf in the lounge. He never really got far into it, just the first few pages before his mind escaped and fluttered elsewhere. He ended up just skimming the rest, nibbling on some cheddar that was put in front of him.

On the penultimate day in December, Callum was sitting and watching an old episode of Catchphrase with Mrs Deacon when he felt a vibration in his pocket. The only person he had given his number to from The Smilers was Deakey, who was currently sitting in the kitchen reading the Racing Post. That didn’t mean that the rest of the gang didn’t have it, but so far all the communication had come from Deakey. That wouldn’t last forever though.

Callum glanced at his phone, and noticed he had a new message. He didn’t recognise the number, and he didn’t expect to. _‘The Rockfield. 7pm’_ was all the message said. He placed the phone back in his pocket and continued to make wrong suggestions at the question on the tv.

“You’ll catch your death,” Mrs Deacon said, pouring out some food into Queenie’s bowl. “It’s well below freezing out there already. It’s supposed to be sunny in the morning. Can’t it wait? I’m cooking up a soup with the left over turkey carcass.”

Callum tied up the laces of the trainers before smiling up at the lady. “It’s only just gone six,” he explained as Queenie came and pulled at one of his laces in protest at not being given her dinner yet. Callum knocked her away and redid his shoe up. “I’ve got to run off all this cheese you’ve been feeding me otherwise I won’t be able to get out that armchair at all!”

“Nonsense,” she replied, finally putting down Queenie’s dish. The cat scurried over, tail in the air haughtily at finally receiving her dinner. “Strapping lad like you needs a good bit of food to keep him going. Well, they’ll be plenty of soup left in the pot when you get back, and I’ll leave a good hunk of bread and butter on the side to dip.”

Callum nodded his thanks before heading towards the door. He wouldn’t be able to eat before he went out anyway, not with the anticipation of finding out who he was going to meet. It played in his belly, bubbled there and flicked at him every time the sensation started to die down. Callum didn’t want to run away from it though. He was going to run towards it.

It took just over thirty minutes for him to reach The Rockfield, a small bar just off a high street. It didn’t get much passing trade, you had to know it was there in order to find it. There was a faint buzz in the air, a few people relishing their time off work to have a few late nights, but it wasn’t overly crowded that he could see. It was a place with many corners and hidden booths though, so anyone could be watching.

When he was running here, Callum made sure he wasn’t being followed, keeping an eye out for any cars that were lingering, any bikes that seemed to be going in the same direction or pedestrians that were pounding the same pavement that he was running along. None of them seemed suspicious or to be noticing him, and just to be sure he ducked under a subway tunnel for five minutes, waiting to see if anyone came his way, almost jumping out of his skin when a black crow started to wander into the tunnel.

As Callum approached the bar, he started to keep an eye out for who he was meeting. It was hard to search for someone when you didn’t know who you were looking for. There was still an inkling in him that it could be a trap; there was still the fear that the very people he was trying to bring down had found out everything and were here to silence and destroy him.

Callum propped himself up at the bar, ordering an orange juice. He still had the run back, and he also needed to be alert for whatever was there to meet him. A few minutes passed, and no one seemed to pay him much attention at all. There was a couple over by the window, but they seemed too interested in each other, a young woman nursing a coke at the other end of the bar, and then the server who was looking at him and then back down at the last drops of drink in his glass.

He was just about to decide to leave with a sinking feeling in his stomach over why no one had turned up, when he noticed the girl who was seated over the other side had now moved to the stool one up from him. “You ain’t gonna offer to buy me a drink then?” she asked with a smile, her flowery perfume fluttering over his way.

This was the last thing he wanted to happen. Callum was too busy trying to avoid being garrotted and left in a ditch when he was found out to be a copper undercover, to try and avoid the advances of some well meaning girl who was smiling up at him expectantly.

“Actually, I was just leaving,” he said, picking up his glass and draining it before looking back at the dark haired young woman with a guilty smile. “I’m really sorry.”

She didn’t seem overly disappointed, her eyes just narrowed slightly. “I think you’ve got time to buy me one drink, Callum.”

His hand stilled at the glass, as he froze at the sound of his name. The woman signalled to the bar tender to serve them the same again. Callum’s mind ticked over, at first wondering if he had met her before, perhaps when he first came out the army and his head wasn’t quite what it should have been. He looked her up and down, taking in her demeanour and attitude. Then it clicked.

“Thompson sent you,” he said quietly, aware that he couldn’t bring to much attention to them. He slipped back onto the barstool, and faced ahead. “You’re my police contact.”

He noticed the woman nod out the corner of his eye as she brought the glass to her lips. “That your DCI? I work under DI Branning; he give me this assignment. I’ll be honest with you now, it’s my first time doing this.”

“My first time undercover, so I guess we’re both rookies,” he said with a slight chuckle. “How does this work?”

She looked up at him with kind eyes, hopefully taking pity on his admitted ignorance. “We meet when we need to, you update me with the assignment and I’m here to support you,” she explained. “A friendly familiar face to give you a little hope. Well I hope!”

Callum joined in with her giggle at her play on words. “Where do I start?” he asked, though it was rhetorical. “I guess it would be figured out that I managed to get into The Smilers.”

The officer nodded wide eyed. “I can’t say there wasn’t a little bit of a surprise by that. They don’t just let anyone in,” she said. “How did you do it?”

Callum hesitated. He couldn’t admit to what he did. He knew that being undercover afforded him certain liberties. He knew he would be expected to commit crimes and illegal actions as a part of his assignment. That was a given, and nothing would be held against him if he needed to commit minor indiscretions or go along with some of the bigger criminal activities that would be expected from him as part of the gang.

Killing someone in cold blood, well that was different. That wouldn’t be excused, no matter how much Thompson needed him to get into the gang. There was no excuse or explanation, no repentance that could ever forgive killing someone innocent just to make personal gain. Callum couldn’t tell this woman what had happened. He wouldn’t be able to trust that it wouldn’t get back to Thompson and then everything, all his work, would fall apart.

“He said I dazzled him a bit,” Callum said, letting a smidge of truth run through. “Ben Mitchell. I think I was more impressive than the rest.”

“You impressed Ben Mitchell?” she exclaimed with a snort. “I’ve heard the stories and read the files. Everyone always says that all he’s interested in is cock, cars and cabaret! What did you do, fix his motor and sing him a song?”

Callum shook his head, swigging back some of his orange juice. She wasn’t bringing up the warehouse, and that made him think that she didn’t know about what had taken place that night at all. She didn’t know about the meeting or the body. Was she being left out the loop by those higher up? “Nah, they were just interested when they heard my name,” he confessed. She would know what he was going by, and he was sure she would know what that meant. “I guess that gave me an advantage.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard you was a Highway,” she said, giving him those big, sad eyes again, ones that fluttered a wave of sympathy at him. “I read about what happened to your family, in the files of course, but I knew about it before too when I started in the organised crime unit. You didn’t keep the name though? I guess I understand why.”

“After it all happened I went to stay with some friends of the family,” he said, willing to talk about this part of the story. “They took me in so I didn’t have to go into care. It was just easier to take their name. It stopped all the questions, all the speculation that was still about years after. It meant I could disappear.”

The officer nodded, as though she understood. How could she? No one ever did. She cleared her throat. “It’s hard to be without family. My brother’s worked up north for years, so it’s just my step-mum’s family I’ve got down him. I miss him so much. I know it’s early days, but have you found anything out so far?” she asked, obviously feeling uncomfortable at the subject. “Any activity or associates that would be worth looking into.”

“Yeah,” Callum replied, sitting up a little. “There’s a guy down Delilah Road, they call him Tubbs. He seems to have a bit of a hand in things. He shifted some gear onto The Smilers.”

“That’s brilliant!” she replied, her expression shooting into a grin. Callum didn’t share her enthusiasm, and her excitement gave away her greenness. Tubbs would be known to the police, and they’d already know exactly where to find him. “Can’t believe we’ve got something already.”

Callum took a little pity on her, wanting to give her something that she could take back to her boss that would be of importance. “There’s a big job going down soon,” he said, lowering his voice as his eyes shifted to the bartender who was cleaning some glasses. “I ain’t got any of the details yet, but it’s on the radar and it’s got a few people rattled. It could be a game changer.”

The officer bit her lip, clearly thinking the information through. “Right, right,” she repeated, hoping more information would flutter out of the air. “We can keep an ear to the ground our end, and you keep seeing what you can find out.”

With that, she slipped off the chair, pushing her glass towards the other side of the bar. “If you need to get hold of me then use the number I messaged you with,” she informed him, putting her coat on. “Anyone tries to call it, then it goes through to a voicemail for a takeaway. Just text, yeah? And use a codeword. Let’s go with Delilah, alright? Like the road. So we know it’s you. If I got anything else for you or need to contact you it’ll be from the same number. Take care, Callum.”

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her arm as she turned to leave. “What’s your name?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her face relaxing at the question. “I’m DC Dean. Whitney.”

As soon as Callum got back to the house, he followed his stomach into the kitchen. The Deacons had clearly gone to bed for an early night; the lights were off, and the television was quiet. The hob was still warm though, having not been turned off long before, and Callum opened up the saucepan lid to release the meaty and flavoursome steam out. He ladled a large amount of soup into a bowl, chunky with meat and roasted vegetables, before sawing off a slice of thick crusty bread that showered crumbs onto the board. He scraped golden yellow butter onto the slice, thinning the white airy texture as he tried to spread it evenly.

He was hungry now that he had met Whitney and it had turned out to be an ally rather than someone from a gang out to kill him. It didn’t leave him optimistic about how his assignment was going. The only thing he had achieved so far was actually getting in the gang, but at least now he had a source of information from the other side. At least he could find out information that The Smilers wouldn’t tell him, and that he wouldn’t be able to access now he was undercover.

After he finished his soup, he crept upstairs and into his bedroom. He checked the phone before throwing it onto the bed, a harsh mewed response coming out into the darkness. “Stop going to sleep on there then,” he said with a frustrated tone, as Queenie glared at him when the light went on. “You’ve got a whole sofa downstairs you can lie on without trying to share a little cramped bed with me.”

She shook her head dramatically and then flopped back down on the bed with her back to him. Callum took off his clothes and tried to crawl under to covers, shaking them a little so the lazy kitten rolled further down. She seemed disgusted at the fact that Callum chose to stretch out when he slept, rather than rolling himself up in a ball and perching on the pillow. It really was very selfish of him.

Callum let his eyes flutter closed, his mind becoming almost used to the routine and environment he was making his home. He couldn’t let himself get too complacent though. It would be too easy to fall into this world and forget about his true intention.

Callum woke up to a scream downstairs, and he sat up with a start, his dreams that hinted of impurity, fading fast. He kicked off the covers, his hand automatically reaching down under the bed before he remembered where he was. He quickly pulled on the jogging bottoms he had lazily deposited on the floor the night before and headed for the door, where the wails were still coming from the ground floor.

His legs peddled down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Mrs Deacon was clutching her face in horror and staring down at the floor. “What’s going on?” he asked, breathless and running a hand through his unruly hair.

“There you go woman! Look, you’ve woken Sleeping Beauty up you were so loud!” Deakey said, shaking his head at he fluttered his paper, before turning the page. “Ignore her, Callum. She’s brought a cat into the house expecting it to pick up perfect manners. She’s shocked it’s behaving like the bit of trash animal it actually is.”

Callum took a few more steps, his feet feeling cool on the kitchen tile, and looked to where Mary Deacon was staring in horror. Queenie was on the ground, sitting up proudly on her bottom and looking up with delight. Under her paw, still impaled on a sharp claw, was the destroyed body of a small white mouse, its paw still slightly twitching and it’s belly sliced open, blood pooling underneath it.

“I will not have a killer in this house, Fred!” Mrs Deacon exclaimed, turning away from the sight before her. “She’s not supposed to go after real mice! That’s why I got her that little toy for Christmas. She’s got to be trained up properly!”

“She’s not a Labrador, Mare,” Deakey said with a tut, drawing a long sip from his mug of tea. “You can’t train her to do tricks and fetch your slippers. She might curl up on your lap and give a purr, but she’s got a wildness in her. She was born on the street, not in some cosy cupboard. That never goes away. You can’t take away that start in life. That’s always gonna be there.”

“I’m not asking for her to jump through hoops!” she replied, ripping off a few squares of kitchen towel, before shooing a befuddled Queenie away from her kill. Mrs Deacon scooped the mouse up and wrinkled her nose as she deposited it unceremoniously into the bin. “I’m just asking her to refrain from stabbing rodents to death on my kitchen floor!”

Callum took a jay cloth from under the sink, and ran it under the tap. He knelt down and started to clear up the remaining blood, Queenie looking on satisfactorily that she had him doing her dirty work for her.

“Best get a shift on, son,” Deakey said, putting down his paper and placing his breakfast plate into the sink. “The boss has summoned us down to the office. Christmas is officially over.”

Callum wasn’t sure what he expected the office to be like. He knew where it was, it had all been in the file that Thompson had given him after all. However, considering this was supposedly the headquarters of one of London’s most notorious crime divisions, it was almost underwhelming to see it was just an auto-parts shop tapped on to a small dingy garage on the side. It was hiding in plain sight, pretending to be something else and not drawing attention to itself. Maybe it wasn’t surprising at all.

As soon as Callum and the some of the rest of The Smilers walked into the office, he heard a loud crash over to the side. Looking over, he could see Buddy, the nervous puking kid from that night at the warehouse standing there with an empty container, as tiny metal car parts were scattered on the floor. Callum followed his gaze to Ben, and the boy looked like a deer in the headlights.

“You’ve dropped your nuts,” Ben said, swaggering over and patting the peaky fellow on the shoulder. “Best pick those up before they get trod on, eh.”

Buddy nodded enthusiastically, gulping a few times before dropping to his knees, his fingers trembling so much that he kept dropping more of the items onto the floor than he got back in the container. Most of the other men disappeared into the back. Callum wondered whether he should go with them, but no one seemed to ask him.

“A right palaver these two new ones have been,” Billy commented, looking down with a wrinkled nose at the scrambling boy on the floor. “The other one ain’t too bad, keeps singing your praises and practically prepared to carve our colours into his arm! Got a bit of a head for figures so I’ve stuck him with the paperwork. This one though, can’t tell his arse from his elbow and keeps dropping the stock. I used to be something in this company, now I’m a glorified babysitter!”

“Relax, Bill!” Ben spat out, waving his hand dismissively. “We all gotta start somewhere, haven’t we? We need a few purities in here so that when the filth come knocking, the shop don’t look like a live action version of the Met wanted board!”

“Yeah, and muggins here has to be the one to sort it out as usual,” Billy muttered. Callum understood why Ben kept him about; he was family, and that brought a sense of loyalty that couldn’t be bought. It was probably clear to everyone though that he wasn’t trusted by Ben with some of the more important jobs. There was an elephant in the room that was finding it hard to not trump out its niggling annoyance. “Can’t I come on a few more jobs?”

Ben leaned against the desk, laser eyes belting towards his relative. “I’m not running a community service programme here,” he said, his eyes frowning towards a sight on the desk. “What are those?”

Billy glanced towards the desk. “They’re flowers, ain’t they.”

Ben rolled his eyes, walking closer and examining the vase. “I can see they’re fucking flowers!” he replied. Callum could hear the waver in his voice. He was shaken, though he still held his head up and his body strong. He was shocked and trying not to show it. “Why are there a thousand and one daffodils sitting in some water on my desk?!”

Billy shrugged, as if he didn’t understand the concern. “They were delivered for you this morning,” he said with a huff. “Thought they might be from one of your admirers. There’s a note on there, look.”

Ben fluttered his fingers through the petals, removing the little envelope with his name on it. “My admirers get thanks enough, they don’t send me flowers,” he said as his eyes darted over the lines of the note. “Flowers are always a message. They always mean something.”

Screwing up the note and putting it in his pocket, Ben gave a sigh. “I could do with a pint,” he said, his eyes looking up to Callum for a moment and stilling on him. “Bill, go tell the lads.”

The Phoenix pub was just a stone’s throw away from the garage, barely a few doors down the road. They all marched down the street, a fleet that couldn’t be ignored, and Callum was a part of that. He couldn’t help but notice the looks they received from the locals. An eye lifted, but only one. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, and it wasn’t an unrecognised one. Every face that was turned, faux distraction at cleaning their cars or pushing a pram, knew who they were. They were the enemy within but also the devil they knew.

It wasn’t a particularly modern establishment, Callum was sure much hadn’t changed in the last twenty years, but it was clearly kept well. The paintwork was fresh, the upholstry on the chairs and booths was clean and unmarked, and the tables had a sheen of polish sparkling off them. There was a busy atmosphere, not a vibrant one, but what you would expect for a lunch time on New Year’s Eve.

The barman was in the middle of serving a customer, halfway puling his pint when he spotted Ben and The Smilers come through the door. He immediately put down the glass, waving and shushing the objections of the punter, and quickly scurried over to the other side of the bar. “Afternoon, Mr Mitchell,” he said, placing his hands on the wooden surface. “Fellas. Got your booth empty for you, and I can tuck in a few more chairs to sit you all in.”

“Cheers, Bri,” Ben said, leaning his folded arms on the bar. Callum took the opportunity to run his eyes down his body, though his coat hid most of the figure there. When he looked up, he noticed Deakey giving him raised eyebrows, and his cheeks pinked up. “Anything I should know?”

The barman shook his head. “Nothing new heard,” he confirmed. Callum realised this wasn’t just a pub, it was a communication centre with ears and loose lips that thought they were safe because they couldn’t see any of the gang in view. It was a mousetrap more than a pub. “Apart from what I told you last week about that big job that’s coming up. Not heard much more about it though. Oh, there was a bird in here asking for you the other day.”

“A girl?” Ben said with a smile, and there was a chuckle amongst some of the others. “Nah, must have been some other ridiculously fit fella she was on the look out for. Thanks, Bri”

With that, Ben pulled a wad of notes out of his pocket and slapped them onto the bar. It seemed way too much for a round, even a couple, and Callum couldn’t imagine that the rates in the pub were that high anyway, especially for Ben. This was another sort of payment that certainly wouldn’t be going through the books.

Ben strutted his way towards the back near to the fire exit and plonked himself on the end of a booth. It was right by the fire exit, hidden from vision for most of the bar but still had a clear view of the front door. This wasn’t a coincidence; this was chosen by someone who was always on their guard.

Once they were all settled, the first round of pints were laden onto the table, drips forming over the rims of the glasses as they escaped the bubbling white froth.

“Come on Ads, what are you?” Nooky said, waving the paper about. “You give off a wave of a water sign to me.”

Flash almost spat out the sip of his beer. “Water fucking sign? What the fuck are you on about?” he said, giving his friend a slap with his free hand. “He’s a driver, not a bloody river trout! You and those fucking horoscopes! It’s all a load of stinking bollocks!”

“Well you’re a Leo, they’re notoriously unspiritual,” Nooky replied, folding the paper over and drawing it to his body. “You don’t put yourself into place that provides you with a sacred feeling.”

“Trust me, last night I put myself into a place that gave me a definite religious experience!” Flash said with a laugh. “At least she kept on calling me God!”

“Probably because you come and go without her even feeling you were there,” Ben said, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m a Scorpio,” Ads suddenly revealed, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. It wasn’t the lightest environment anyway, and Callum wondered if the driver could see anything at all in the dim glow.

“See, that’s a different one!” Nooky said excitedly. “I knew you was a water sign. I’m good at reading people.”

Flash let out a long raspberry. “You can’t read for shit! You can barely stumble your way through those pussy horoscopes let alone figure out anything about anyone. Remember when we were on that job, trying to get away with fifty grands worth of gear in the back of the motor, and you stopped to ask for directions?”

Nooky flustered up, a little hurt at the accusation. “What’s wrong with that?” he replied, and Callum felt something against his foot as he smiled at the man’s response. He looked up to see Ben was looking at him. “We was in a different part of town, I thought it was important we get back to the office as soon as we could.”

“Yeah, except you stopped to ask a fucking traffic cop!” Flash exclaimed. Callum felt the brush at his foot again, and when his eyes met Ben’s he noticed he was gripping his lip between his teeth. Callum swallowed hard, and he knew it was seen. He knew he was giving the reaction that was desired. “We’re sitting there with a twenty five year prison sentence in our back seat, and you’re making small talk with the local constabulary!”

“I’m good at telling what’s inside a person!” Nooky argued. “I knew Ads would be a Scorpio. They’re determined, mysterious and loyal.”

“Aren’t they the kinky bastards who’d sooner slit your throat than forgive you?” Flash enquired. “Actually, Ads, come to think of it I think Nooky’s right!”

“ _Scorpio_ ,” Nooky announced, reading from the paper. “ _You often speed through life without noticing the details around you. Spend the day slowing down, immersing yourself in your surroundings and stopping to become one with nature. You’ll feel the benefit for it.”_

“So his horoscope is telling him to slow down and get out for a walk in the countryside?” Deakey said, folding his arms and leaning back. “That’s a great lot of use considering his job is to spend the day in the car, getting away as quick as possible!”

“That’s said like a typical Virgo, Deaks,” Nooky replied with a half hearted glare. There was the tapping at Callum’s foot again, and a slight brush up towards his ankle. It was a soft graze that he could feel tingle its way through his sock and spread and buzz on his skin. He couldn’t look at Ben this time. He didn’t know what either of their eyes would say. “Callum, what are you?”

The question stunned him out of his thoughts for a second, the solid feeling of Ben’s foot against his disappearing as he blinked in confusion. His brain considered the words though, as he realised they weren’t accusing, but enquiring. “Oh, I don’t know,” he lied. “I’m not a follower of stuff like that.”

He didn’t want to answer the question. He needed to try and avoid anything that revealed even trinkets about himself. “Well, when’s your birthday?” Nooky persisted, smiling at him excitedly.

“March,” he said. He couldn’t lie about this. When you were born was too set in stone, too unchangeable to risk anyone finding out he wasn’t telling the truth. If he lied and they found out somehow, then he knew he’d be questioned about what else he was lying about too. “The twenty fifth.”

“He’s an Aries like you, Boss!” Nooky said happily. “Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah, that both of us will rip up that paper and shove it down your throat if you don’t stop harping on,” Ben said, a little annoyance in his voice. It was because Callum hadn’t looked. He hadn’t done what he wanted; he’d rebelled.

“ _Aries_ ,” Nooky started reading. “ _Today is the day to stop and smell the flowers_ -. Hey!”

There was a loud rustle as Flash screwed up the paper and chucked it over his shoulder. “That’s enough of that!” he said, elbowing a disappointed Nooky in the ribs. “It’s New Year’s Eve, and we’re celebrating by sitting around reading the lifestyle sections rather than letting go of this year with a bang!”

“You’re right,” Ben said, lifting up his glass and draining it. “I’m not seeing the year out here, gentleman. Go home, have a wash and brush up. We’re going to see the year off with style and a bang.”

Callum heard Deakey groan next to him. “Come on boss!” he remarked. “I’m too old for all that. Plus, her indoors won’t be happy.”

“You can wait in the car, Deaks!” Ben exclaimed, standing up. All the other men followed, like sheep mimicking the other. Callum stayed sitting. “Or I’ll get them to shove in a little armchair behind the bar and you can sit watching Songs of Praise with a cuppa. Either way, you’ll be there. Montreux at ten, gentleman. Don’t be late.”

Everyone else seemed to be excited by the evening ahead, apart from Deakey and they all headed towards the door. Callum stood up slowly from the table and took a final sip of his drink. When he turned around, Ben was standing there, just inches from him.

“That’s better,” he said, as he met Callum’s eyes. “Getting a bit tired of you looking down like a blushing Geisha.”

Callum gave his shoulder a little shrug, trying to seem dismissive, trying to show he wasn’t affected. He was. He was starting to get drunker every time Ben caught his eye, and he needed to stop it. He needed to just get over it. It was impossible to drink without getting intoxicated though. “Just weren’t that interested in the conversation, is all,” he said, trying to get some distance. It didn’t work though. Ben reached up and grabbed one of the loose ties of his hoodie, swirling it around a little.

“It’s a fire sign,” he said, threading a small knot into the tie, and giving it a little tug. He let go. “Aries. We’re fire. But, then you already knew that, didn’t you?”

With that, Ben turned away, calling out for him not to be late that evening. Callum wasn’t quite sure what he was in for, but he knew he couldn’t turn away.

“A couple of magnums of Moet and Chandon to get us started, pal,” Ben said as he approached the bar, the crowds dispersing as if he’d entered wearing a regal crown and cloak. Callum thought he may as well have, strutting through the club as if he owned it, giving the barest of a raised eyebrows to the bouncers on the door who were keeping back a huge line of people waiting for their chance to get in.

Once Callum had got home, he’d showered and put on a smart shirt and jeans under Deakey’s instruction, while the older man explained to Mrs Deacon exactly where both of them would be spending the New Year.

“Well, that’s wonderful!” Callum could hear her exclaim impatiently. “I’ve been cooking a ham for tea all day, and now I find out I’ve got to see in the New Year by myself, while you two go frolicking at some sordid, seedy dive in town!”

“It ain’t like that, Mare,” Deakey tried to explain. “The boss wants-“

“Oh, I know exactly what Ben Mitchell is after!” she scolded in return. “Don’t you give me any of those excuses, Fred. I know exactly what goes on in a place like Montreux! It’s a den of sin, is what it is! I mean why sit at home with a bit of cake when you can go get your chops around some diseased caviar?”

Callum heard Deakey sigh, and a small sob escaped its way up the stairs. “Well it’s a good job I’d take a delicious slice of sponge over fish eggs every day, ain’t it?” his muttered and muffled comments replied. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, Mare. Not my scene, is it?”

“What about him though?” Mrs Deacon replied, and Callum could almost feel her finger pointing his way. “You happy about taking him to a place like that?”

“He’s a grown lad, Mary,” Deakey replied. “He can make his own choices and decisions, whether they be wrong or right.”

They had both arrived outside Montreux’s an hour later. It had a subtle outside, almost an Art Deco feel to the discreet sign and front. There was a crowd though, signalling that it was somewhere that was known enough to entice people without having to advertise about it. They were all foaming at the mouth, prepared to take the risk to stand outside during New Year rather than go somewhere that had a guaranteed entrance.

They had met the rest of the Smilers outside, and Ben led their way in, his head held high like privileged French Dauphin, expecting the rest of the commoners to scuttle out of his way. They all did. It didn’t take long for the bottles of champagne to appear on the bar before him. All he had to do was ask, and he got what he wanted.

Callum sipped on his glass, the bubbles hitting his head quickly. He stood next to Deakey, partly to keep him company, but also to reassure him that he could make the right choices. It was clear that the club wasn’t going to be the place for many people to do that.

The music wasn’t thumping through, it wasn’t that type of place. It was lower but with an addictive beat that automatically sped up your heart. The bar was long, ranging from one side of the room to the other. In the middle, there were exotic dancers, dressed and heavy in make up and salacious outfits, performing contortionist moves inside a large glass case; a heady spectacle that drew the eye. An encouraging and stirring sight that was designed to lead the customer down a risky path.

It was clear that this wasn’t the only part of the club though, as various bodies disappeared through doors, pulling eager hands with them. It was hard to know who worked here and who was just visiting, and they all seemed to swirl into one iniquitous thought.

Around a quarter of an hour later, Callum was on his next glass of champagne, nodding along to Deakey who was describing how the ornate metal work on one of the poles had been made. He tried to keep his eyes just on the architecture, or the man next to him, knowing that one slip could make him fall down a rabbit hole.

“Right!” he heard Ben’s voice ring out. “Clear off you lot!” he ordered the men around him. “Go and have a good night, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Christ boss, I’d have to defile every commandment going to get close to that!” Flash called out, as he threw his arm around a young woman that had been rubbing her hand down his chest. She had blue eyelashes that fluttered out from her face and wore a Georgian corset embroidered with the most intricate lace. “I’ll give it a fucking good go though!”

“Boss,” Deakey started, the whine and annoyance clear in his tone.

Ben patted him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Deaks,” he said comfortingly. “You get on home. I don’t want Mary coming round and boiling up my guts for garters in the morning, do I?”

Deakey seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Cheers, Boss!” he said gratefully. “Me and Callum will be off, but we’ll go check over the office first thing in the morning, make sure everything’s running alright.”

“He ain’t going nowhere,” Ben said forcefully. Callum caught his eye, and he could see that he was serious. He could see that he wanted him. “You get back to your wife, but this one’s gonna stay with me.”

“How’s he gonna get home?” Deakey scrambled, his eyes darting between the two of them. There was concern in his voice. “Mary won’t like-“

“Deaks!” Ben said firmly, pushing the man towards the door. “Don’t worry! Tell Mary he’ll be back in one piece later. I’ll see he gets off.”

The older man gave a roll of his eyes, but there was clearly no more he could do. That was fine. Callum wasn’t sure he wanted him to. He was being pulled in, and it was too appealing. The back of his mind warned him about his choice, but his body was leading him in the place it wanted to go.

“Come on,” he heard Ben order, and it took him out of the dilemma running through his head for a second. Callum followed, shuffling after Ben who was carrying a bottle of champagne and some glasses. There was a spiral staircase in the corner, painted black so it was almost unnoticeable.

Callum heard the dull metal thuds of both their footsteps as they made their way around. When they finally reached the top, it was a small loft space, dimly lit with two sofas. Ben placed the glasses down on the table and poured the champagne into them, signalling for Callum to sit down.

“You not want the other fellas up here either?” Callum said, anticipation thinning the air, as he shuffled forward to pick up his glass, swigging a large mouthful back. The champagne had already hit his head, caressing his worries, making them sleep away so that his desire could storm through to the front of his mind. There was a plate of chocolates on the table, decadent and shiny and aching to be tasted. Callum picked one up, swirling it into his mouth, the dark cocoa rich on his palette, and he sucked until the shell broke, exploding salty sweet caramel onto his tongue. He took another one.

“They’re too busy enjoying themselves,” Ben said, watching Callum eat the chocolates under hooded eyes. “Part of the perks of the job; they get to come along, everyone knows whose gang they’re part of and they get their dicks wet as much as they want. Well except Nooky. He’s probably talking the ear off one of the girls, telling them about some documentary on the Mayans that he saw last night. He’s not that interested in anything casual. Got idiotic delusions of grandeur that there’s some love story out there waiting for him.”

“But he’s called Nooky?” Callum asked in confusion. He had assumed it was his nickname and not an unfortunate name given at birth.

“His first name’s Roger, but he just don’t live up to it,” Ben mused, licking his lips. “Sure he don’t mind looking though. Not much use you going down there and having tits shoved in your face is there?”

Callum stilled, his mouth slightly open, ready to deposit the next chocolate. It wasn’t a surprise; he knew he’d not exactly shied away from looking at Ben. Everyone looked at Ben though. He just had something that forced the eye.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Ben continued. Callum couldn’t. There was no point in attempting a lie that could be seen. It would give away too many tells, and he needed to keep those. “Thought not.”

“That why I’m up here then? Because I ain’t interested in anything down there?” Callum said. “You’re their leader. They’ll go where you tell them to.”

Ben scoffed at that. “Being a leader ain’t all everyone thinks it is. It’s lonely.”

“It don’t seem it,” Callum said, leaning back. Loneliness was something he didn’t need to be educated about. It ran through him, coursed through every vein with its chilling laugh, moving too fast to catch and send away. It had always been there. It would always be there. “Ain’t ever seen you without someone trying to get your attention.”

“That don’t stop the loneliness,” Ben confessed, and Callum realised that the champagne and whatever booze he had consumed throughout the day was making the man’s words slide easily from his lips. “Do you know what it’s like? To be surrounded by people and still feel on the outside? You look like you’re part of the group, but you ain’t. There’s still a barrier there that don’t ever quite let you in.”

“You’re their boss, their leader, the frontman of Smilers,” Callum clarified. “They respect you.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t one of them,” Ben muttered. “I ain’t the same as them. They don’t see me as one of them.”

“Do you want to be?” he asked. The pulse of the music whirled around his head in the background, and it felt like there was no world outside this space. It was as if it had all faded away.

“I always wanted to fit in; be who my dad wanted me to be, be who my family wanted me to be, and be who I thought I should be,” he explained, and Callum’s ear pricked up a little, trying to coax him to listen when the Mitchell Empire was mentioned. It was all put away now though. His mind was too busy dancing to want to work. “It don’t work like that though, Callum. You can dress up in all the camouflage you like, but you still stand out at the odd one. They still talk about you more than they’ll talk with you.”

That was something that Callum understood. In the army, he was essentially the same as everyone else. He would have a laugh and a joke with people, and they would chat to him happily. It almost felt like he fit. If you squinted, then he would seem like the same as they were. It was noticeable though; the differences. It wasn’t what they did do, but what they didn’t. The conversations he was left out from, the birthdays he wasn’t invited to and the comments that respected him as part of the group, but inferred his differences from them. They would use him when they needed him, but when someone better came along they’d keep their distance. He just didn’t fit.

“Is that why you brung them here then? To try and impress them? Give them what they want in the hope they might like you for who you are rather than what you are?” he slurred out dangerously; he could hear how the accusation sounded in his mind.

“Careful, Callum,” Ben replied, showing a hint of a growl. “Lippy as you may be, it ain’t no match for my bark. Maybe I brought them here to remind them of them of the upside of being a Smiler. Keep them loyal to the group.”

“With sex?” he asked, wrinkling up his nose a little. “You think their loyalty is that easily bought?”

“Oh I know it is,” Ben said, laughing. “Nothing wrong with getting a bit of pleasure where you can.”

Callum took another chocolate, rolling it in his lips before swallowing it down. “Ain’t there?” he asked, curious as to the answer. “What about when it’s like this? When it’s in secret, when it’s in darkness and without any feeling or chase? How can it be pleasurable when you ain’t had to work up to it; it’s just handed on a sinful plate. How can you not feel the depths of guilt and shame after that?”

“Because sometimes you just need something to take it all away,” Ben replied, and he reached over, pressing a button that was on a little table by his sofa. “Cause sometimes the numbness of a meaningless shag is better than the pain of every other mistake you make in your life. Sometimes you just need to forget who you are.”

Before Callum could respond, there were footsteps on the stairs, building more and more. A man appeared at the top, looking towards Ben, waiting for instruction.

“I didn’t get you a Christmas present,” he said, giving a nod towards the young man. “Thought I’d wait until I could watch you unopen it.”

Callum shuffled a little in his seat, as the man came and knelt before him, smiling up at him with warm brown eyes and flicking back a stray strand of his dark blonde hair. He didn’t speak, just merely rested his hand on Callum’s leg heavily.

“Unless you don’t want to of course,” Ben said, sitting back on the sofa. “If you ain’t interested.”

It was a challenge. It was like Ben said earlier, it was about loyalty, it was about obedience in a way. Ben may feel lonely as the leader, but that didn’t mean that he would give that up. It seemed like a way to show Callum that he could have anything he chose, including him, in any way he chose.

“I’m interested,” he replied defiantly, and he couldn’t help but feel himself stir with a willing body sitting before him, ready and waiting to do anything he wished. It wouldn’t be the first time. When he got out the army, his head had been in a different place. He’d worked through for so long about what he actually wanted, and who he actually was, but that didn’t make his leaving any easier. It just meant that he went after what he thought he needed; what his crying brain had craved and told him he wanted. The touch of a hand, of a mouth and of a body underneath him. It hadn’t mattered who, not really, but it didn’t help. After, it was just as if the feeling was reset back again. It hadn’t’ made a difference.

There was almost a flicker in Ben’s eye, and Callum dismissed the thought that perhaps he was hoping Callum would refuse. It had been too long though, and when the blonde man started to rub him through his jeans, he leaned his head back and groaned. He couldn’t help but let it escape. It had been too long, and the touch talked to his body. It had been too long.

“Look at me,” he heard Ben say, barely in whisper, before it grew firmer. “Look at me!”

Callum turned his head lazily, as the hand rubbed and stroked just in the right spot, his cock hardening and wanting more. He met Ben’s eyes, their darkness lasering through and exploding like gunpowder, even with the dim lighting. They hit him like a flame, and Callum groaned again, not caring he was being loud.

His eyes flickered down to where Ben was rubbing himself through his trousers, biting his bottom lip to help restrain his actions. It didn’t appear to be working though, as his hand was relentless, and Callum started to hear grunts that made his cock twitch with every sound.

The blonde started to undo Callum’s belt, and he felt himself be pulled out his trousers, his balls still inside and tightening as the man stroked up and down his cock. It wasn’t quite what he wanted, it didn’t feel quite right, but it was enough. It had been too long.

Callum reached down and ran his fingers through golden hair, trying to get him to move his mouth closer. There was a growl from the other sofa. “Don’t play with your food, Callum!”

He didn’t stop though, he needed more, and this mouth in front of him could give it. His champagne head needed his mind blown. It wouldn’t be what he wanted, but it was what he needed. He didn’t stop until his hand was forced away from the golden locks. Turning his head, he could see that Ben was now next to him.

Ben’s breathing was heavy and the hand that wasn’t gripped around Callum’s wrist was now down his opened trousers and relentlessly pounding at his own dick.

Callum’s tongue reached out of his mouth, licking his drying lips and he breathed gently through the rhythm of his moans. He met Ben’s eyes, the darkest sight he had seen, and the promise made his appetite insatiable. He didn’t want to look away. He didn’t want to go back.

He automatically lifted his neck to the side and he could feel Ben’s knuckles knock against his hip as he continued to jerk himself off. The slide of his lips though, tickling and rough against Callum’s collar, was the only sensation that exploded into his brain. It was the only touch he could feel, and the only one he wanted.

It stopped as quickly as it started though, as Ben drew back, his eyes wide. “I shouldn’t be fucking doing this,” he muttered. Something seemed to snap in him, and he pushed the blonde away from Callum, causing him to fall onto the floor. “Get the fuck away from him!”

It felt that Callum’s brain wasn’t quite catching up with him, as Ben hurled himself up from the sofa, and went to stand in the corner, leaning a hand on the wall.

“Ben,” his voice muttered out, and his hand moved to his cock, sitting hard and ready before him. The blonde had disappeared down the stairs, not seeming bothered by the knock back. That was his job after all.

“Don’t talk to me, Callum!” he ordered firmly, his back still towards the sofa. “I can’t do this. I told you, that I don’t do this!”

Callum shook his head, tears almost appearing in his eyes at the humiliation of rejection. He was just a complication, nothing more and that hurt him. He was just meaningless to one more person.

Tucking himself into his trousers, he lept off the sofa towards the stairs, making sure his shirt stayed untucked. He was marching his way down the stairs, a fury of emotion coursing through him, as he made his way to the small glowing door by the side that he recognised as the bathroom.

Flinging open the stall door, a fumbling hand locked it behind him, his head still bleary from the booze and making his actions distemperate. Callum undid his trousers, giving a small sigh when he freed his cock back into the open air. He twisted at the base first, biting his lip in his teeth, before putting his head back and closing his eyes. He let his hand take over, as he saw Ben’s face in his mind, and he reached up and touched his neck as though he could keep the memory of his lips there just a little longer.

He sensed the feeling build, relishing the rare experience of having someone in his mind as his hand slapped up and down his cock, stopping and starting, to get just the right rhythm he liked. It didn’t matter that it was Ben he was imagining, it just heightened everything , made his blood feel on the precipice like lit dynamite, and everything seemed perfect for those few seconds as he froze and released onto the wall of the cubicle.

It faded though, that feeling. It went as soon as it came, and he was left with the reality. Callum knew he’d fallen in too deep already, lost sight of his mission and why he was here in the first place. It wasn’t fair. That he’d finally got to this place, after years of waiting, years of work and being patient, and he was throwing it all away because he couldn’t get a set of eyes out of his head.

It wasn’t fair that he finally felt. That he felt something, and the set of eyes he felt that feeling for was one that he shouldn’t. One that he couldn’t. One that he wouldn’t. He wanted to, but that had to be swallowed down. He couldn’t get sidetracked, not now, especially with someone who only saw him as a complication.

Callum left the cubicle and washed his hands, splashing some water on his reddened face and straightening up his hair. The brightened light buzzed in his head, and his body felt heavy with his climax and the added factor of the drink still in his system. He left the toilets and was shocked when he found Ben waiting outside, his hands in the pocket and his head held high. “Do you have a suit?”

Blinking back his surprise at the question, he could only fumble out his answer. “What? No, I don’t think so,” he replied. He definitely didn’t have one at the Deacons, and he may have some pieces back at his own flat that could pass as a suit, but he was sure it wouldn’t meet Ben’s standard.

“Right, well get down to Mr Taylor’s in the morning, I’ll make sure he’s expecting you,” he replied, not meeting Callum’s eyes. “Then I’ll be around with a car at midday to pick you up. There’s one outside to take you back to the Deacon’s now.”

Ben didn’t wait for him to respond, he just disappeared into the crowd. Callum wanted to pull at his arm, ask him where they were going tomorrow and ask Ben where he was going now.

He wanted to ask him to come back. This feeling wasn't one that was fading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Play list - Chapter Four
> 
> Killer Queen - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZBtPf7FOoM
> 
> Misfire - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eF232ooYT0
> 
> Party - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7kHVbRVpsM
> 
> Ogre Battle - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7p-5CgWP7Iw


	5. A Day At The Races

Callum tried to move through the club quickly, the space now seeing endless and the door appearing further and further away. He turned behind him just once; to look back at Ben. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to pull away, knew he needed to run away, and that was what everything was telling him to do. The desire for just a quick glimpse was too tempting.

Ben was disappearing into the crowd, the people flowing over him like a wave. The Blonde was circling towards that direction, hunting around, and Callum didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen and who Ben was going home with. If he even made it home. That thought dropped to his gut, and he didn’t want it there. He didn’t want it at all. He cut him up, and stabbed with razor wire, when he thought of Ben with someone else.

Callum didn’t know how that had happened; how almost in a blink he was hooked. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t drawn in immediately, but it was a soft wisp floating just at the back of his mind, and somewhere in the few short days it had tornadoed into a storm and he’d been struck. There was no going back, it was like being a fish caught on a line; the barb too embedded to release.

That just meant if he wriggled, then it hurt and it cut deeper. The way Ben was looking at him when they were upstairs, it had felt real. It had felt like something, and now the thought of him looking at someone else like that just stung through him. He didn’t want it; to be turned away, ignored, thrown back in the water for something better. That was his reality though, and Callum’s eyes stung as he made it out of the club, the chill air hitting his face.

It was a dose of reality, to take him out of the world he was sinking further into. The world where he didn’t belong. Callum wanted to walk, wanted to stomp out the unwanted fury until it went away; to pound out the ridiculous jealousy until it dissipated. He wasn’t even allowed to do that though, as he received a nod from a man waiting by a car. It wasn’t an offer or a request. It was expected.

He hurled himself into the back seat, shutting it with a start. The alcohol wasn’t helping his mood, just heightening everything he was feeling, and at the moment that was disappointment and tedium. The car drifted off into the night, and Callum twiddled with the seat belt still hanging unbuckled on the side. There were fireworks set off all around, as the New Year started to ring in. A new start.

Callum hit his hand towards his phone as it buzzed and beeped next to him. There was a heaviness in his head and eyes that was telling him to stay where he was and pull the blanket over his head. He crept one eye open so he could accurately press the snooze button before dropping back down on the pillow with a groan.

Despite the alcohol in his system, his sleep had been disjointed and his dreams were swerved with the real memories, taking them on a different and uncontrollable turn. The night before couldn’t be forgotten, but his slumbered head hadn’t been able to tell what parts were in his imagination, and which parts his mind had escalated and played out his desires.

It wasn’t where he had expected to find himself; having some random guy fisting his cock while Ben’s lips were on his neck. The Blonde’s hand was meaningless, and all the sensation that was pumping down there didn’t come from his hand but from the mouth brushing against the stubble on his neck and sensation of feeling Ben’s knuckles that were bouncing on his thigh as he tugged harshly as his own dick. He’d hated himself for how it made him feel, how he wanted to get lost in that moment.

“You’re all pale!” Mrs Deacon said, feeling the back of his forehead again. “You need to stay in bed dear, not go gallivanting about.”

Callum was sitting at the breakfast table, nibbling at a piece of dry toast, the crust blacked and ashy. It may have been the booze, but he knew it was also the uncertainty of everything that was sitting ill on his stomach.

Mrs Deacon was fussing around him, bringing him a milky mug of tea with Queenie held under her arm, mewing at the disgrace of being carried around with her paws hanging down like a wet socks on a line.

“It’s his own fault, Mare,” Deakey said, eyeing him under a pair of glasses. “This kid can’t handle his drink.”

“As if you could!” she laughed back, and rubbed the back of her husbands hair. It was just quick, but intimate, closer than Callum had ever seen them, or at least what they were willing to show him. “He used to come stumbling in at three in the morning when he was younger, barely able to get his key in the door, trying to be quiet so he didn’t wake the baby, but end up being even louder! I found him one morning snoring away with his head in a pot plant!”

Callum gave a soft laugh at the image before pausing in thought at the room he lived in. “Where is Grace?” he asked, flinging the toast back on the plate.

There was a silence and the laughing stopped, even Queenie seemed to stop moving her paws. Callum wasn’t quite sure what he had said, or what it meant, but he knew it needed to be taken back. He needed it to disappear into the box that it came from.

Deakey seemed to do that for him. “Anyway, if he spends the day nursing his hangover, curled up in his pit, do you think the boss will be happy?” he said after clearing his throat. “He’s had his orders and that’s what he needs to do. The boy don’t need you writing a sick note for him, Mare.”

“You can say no to Ben Mitchell, Fred!” Mrs Deacon squealed out as she finally let Queenie break free and dash down the hallway. “He’s a high-on-his-horse crook, not the heir to the throne!”

“Mare!” Deakey warned. “Talk like that ain’t good! You say that around the wrong person at the wrong time…”

Callum noticed he trailed off, but didn’t miss the slight dart of Deakey’s eyes towards him when he thought he was fiddling with the crumbs on his plate. “I’ve got an appointment now anyway,” he said the chair screeching on the lino as he pushed it out. “I don’t want to be late.”

“It’s like a dodo walking into my establishment,” Mr Taylor said, the pin in his teeth slightly distorting his speech. “A Highway is a dying breed.”

“Thought dodos were extinct?” Callum muttered, his muscles contracting as the tailor’s hands moved around his body. He had been in the shop for thirty minutes now as the man had been preening and fiddling with the suit he had brought out.

Mr Taylor peered up at him, a look of disdain on his face as he harshly pinned up the hem. “I’d watch that mouth of yours or that’s exactly what you will be,” he said, rolling up his tape measure with a fluster. “Not everyone will take kindly to it in this business. You need to start showing a little respect, Mr Highway. Now be a good boy and go wait while I get one of the girls to alter this.”

A few hours later, Callum fiddled with his tie again as he glanced at his watch. Ben had said the car would come at midday and, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to sit down in this suit. When he had grabbed it and shoved it under his arm, Mr Taylor had a look of horror on his face as if he’d taken a pair of garden shears to it.

“Smile!” Mrs Deacon called out, and the flash startled Callum when he turned around. She reached into the polaroid and pulled out the paper, shaking the photograph. “I can’t let you go out looking like that without a little memento.”

“Leave off, Mare,” Deakey mumbled, slumped in front on the television, relishing the opportunity to choose something to watch. Queenie was perched on the back of the armchair softly snoozing, a stray eyelid peaking open every now and then. “He’s only in a new whistle, no need to laser off his irises just because you want to add to that flowery album your cousin Maud gave you for Christmas. Besides, the last time I wore a suit you said I looked like I was going out to perform some kind of magic.”

“That’s because the last new suit you bought was probably for our wedding day!” she exclaimed, brushing Callum’s jacket down, though there wasn’t anything on it. He’s had to nudge Queenie away with his shoe when she bounded up near him, and she’d gone for a sulking nap. “It’s nice that someone in this house is making an effort for once!”

There was a beep of a horn outside, and Callum knew it was for him as the carriage clock that sat on the mantle rang slightly for the stroke of twelve. He straightened his tie once more before making his way towards the door.

“Be back before midnight or Mary will carve you like a pumpkin!” Deakey called, and he heard Mrs Deacon scold him and giggle.

Callum opened the front door and started to walk down the path to the large black car with tinted windows. His breath was caught in his throat, unable to ignore last night and it came flooding into his mind with a harsh dose of reality and more that a little hesitancy.

When he reached the car, he opened the door quickly and jumped in, looking ahead at the blackened partition that separated the driver from the backseat. It didn’t take long for the vehicle to start moving.

“It’s customary for a good morning as a greeting in this part of the world, rather than just sit there and pout like you’ve got a crab’s claw up your arse.” His voice was low and scratched, still not recovered from the previous night. Or early morning. Callum pushed back the jealous thoughts of what had made the tone drifting from Ben’s tight throat so worn.

“It’s past midday, so technically it’s afternoon,” he bit back, playing with the buckle of the seatbelt that still hung by his side. There was silence next to him, and he knew that it was the most enticing sound that Ben could have made. It was drawing him to look round, and he knew it. He wouldn’t give in.

In the end, Callum didn’t have to as he held his willpower slightly longer than Ben could, and he received a nudge to his shin. “Oi,” he said, brushing his foot up and down Callum’s trouser leg. “If I wanted to bring along someone who was going to sit there, ignore me and let out little barbed comments every now and then, I would have brought along Deak’s wife. What’s the matter with you?”

“Why did you bring me then?” he said, turning round and finally looking towards Ben. He was dressed in a suit too; a three piece of darkened burgundy, warm and spiced and perfect. “Why not bring someone that’s gonna do whatever you want them to do?”

Ben smirked, his elbow leaning on the car door and leg bent. Callum couldn’t see his eyes, they were concealed under sunglasses and they just didn’t look right. He was too hidden, and Callum needed to see his eyes.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied with a shrug. “Besides, have you seen Nooks in a suit? Looks and walks like an emperor penguin. I’m much happier with this view.”

“I’m surprised you can see anything under there,” Callum replied, and without even thinking about it, he reached over and knocked the glasses off his face. Ben squinted his eyes at the sudden light change, and then his expression changed to incredulity at the action. “Better.”

Ben picked the glasses up from the seat and tucked them into his pocket. “I’ve had men’s heads blown off for less,” he said with a shake of disbelied, before dragging his eyes down Callum’s body. “I can’t deny I can see better this way though, so I’ll save the blow for another time. The colour don’t quite fit with The Smilers though.”

Callum frowned and defensively smoothed down the creases in his iris blue suit. “I didn’t pick it,” he said. “I wasn’t aware I had to wear strictly red to show my alliance. I must have missed that section in the newsletter.”

Ben bit his lip and huffed out a chuckled breath. “I’m not sure if you’re being deliberately arsey because you just don’t care or if you know what it does to me,” he confessed. “You do know how hard it gets me, right?”

“And I don’t know if you’re saying that because you’re trying to get a rise out of me, or just because you’re being a prick,” he replied, turning his face towards the window. “You do know you’re being a knob head, right?”

There was a louder laugh now, one that vibrated through the car. “Just having a little fun,” Ben said, and Callum felt fingers slightly brush the side of his trouser leg. He gulped back his thoughts, ignoring whatever was settling in the air. “We were having fun last night, weren’t we?”

It was as if Ben had brushed away that moment, that look in his eyes the night before that showed he’d fallen in over his head. Perhaps he didn’t remember it; that was a possibility. Maybe in Ben’s mind it had all played out differently, and he really couldn’t recall what actually happened. “You stopped that. Your rule, remember?”

“Didn’t look like you wanted to stop,” Ben said, and his voice was closer, and Callum realised he’d moved over in the seat. He fixed his eyes on the partition, wondering what could be seen and heard through. There was no way that there wouldn’t be access, only whether Ben allowed it to happened. “You were very happily getting a helping hand before you decided to walk off.”

“Before I walked off?” Callum said, turning his head around to see Ben’s face only inches from his. “I weren’t the one who chucked him off me! Or did you forget that part?”

Ben rolled his eyes slightly and pursed his mouth. He hadn’t forgotten, Callum realised. He just didn’t want to talk about it. “You didn’t want him,” he replied firmly, clicking his teeth with every syllable. “You could have got him back if you wanted, shoved your cock down his throat and has a merry good time. Don’t suddenly make out you’re all submissive, and a good boy who does what he’s told. I know your game.”

Callum turned his head away again. It was a throwaway comment, he knew that, but he didn’t even want to give away a flinch of a clue that he was hiding more than he seemed. “I’m sure you gave him a good enough time for the both of us.”

“Maybe,” Ben concluded. “Perhaps I took him home and just had at him for the rest of the night. Or maybe I ain’t that interested in anything that easy. Like I said, where’s the fun in that?”

“You just want what you can’t have,” Callum laughed out wryly.

“I can have anything,” Ben replied and the defensiveness was clear in his tone.

“Well, you can’t have me,” he stated clearly. Ben hadn’t forgotten what had happened last night, he realised. He wanted it to happen, and he wanted it now. There was just the stubborn fact that he didn’t want to be the one to ask for it.

“If I wanted to I could,” Ben replied petulantly. “I could have you right now. Thread my fingers through your tie, open up your shirt and kiss at your neck. I could get the champagne out from the cooler and watch as you put your lips around it and suck it down from the bottle so quickly that drops scatter down your throat. I could lick them all the way up your neck with my tongue, and into your mouth, get on your lap and just grind into you until you’re so hard that you’d come the moment I stick my hand into your trousers and just gently brush my fingers onto your cock. If I wanted to, I could.”

Callum chewed at his cheek in annoyance, knowing that his face was flaming and giving away what he felt. He cursed Mr Taylor’s name for making the trousers of the suit so tight that it would have been impossible to hide how turned on he was, and he hated losing the feeling of control. All his life, he had felt out of control, guided by others’ choices and other people’s decisions. He wouldn’t do it this time. “No you couldn’t, cause I wouldn’t let you. I wouldn’t give in.”

“I ain’t giving in either,” Ben said, sitting back near the window with a slight growl. “Don’t make out you ain’t interested. We’ve been in this car long enough and you’ve been so distracted that you ain’t even asked where we’re going.”

“Why would I?” Callum said, trying to bring the ends of his jacket over his lap a little more, but aware that he was just drawing attention to the area. “I go where you tell me to go.”

“Don’t sulk,” Ben said. “It’ll ruin the day, and ruin my view of your semi.”

“Fuck off!” Callum spat back, before sighing. “Fine. Where we going?”

Ben smiled a little at the interest. “Well, put it this way. If we wake up with a horse’s head on our pillow in the morning, it’ll either have been a really good night or a really bad one.”

The air was wretched here, the breeze more than harsh with nothing to stop it battling in its tracks. Callum raised a quick hand to his hair, checking it was still in place as he waited for Ben to come back from his conversation.

He was just huddled to the side laughing and joking with some course manager, who was bending over backwards to comply to any of Ben’s wishes once he found out exactly who had trundled up to his racetrack. They didn’t herd through the main entrance like the rest of the New Year’s Day crowd. Instead, they were guided in, the stewards practically bowing as they passed.

Ben of course played up to it, strutting in with his head held high, as if he had a beautiful tail full of plumage behind him, waggling it in a dance to show his authority and magnificence. There was a pride in his stature, one that Callum knew he had to display whether he felt it or not. It was to be expected. It was always to be expected when you had a reputation to live up to.

When they got into the paddock, Ben stopped and turned towards him, bringing a VIP tag up and threading it through the buttonhole of Callum’s jacket. He tightened the knot before moving his hands down the string and threading through an extra one. Then he clapped his hands together, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Right, you want to look at the horses first or go right up to the tossers’ box with the toffs that will sneer down their noses at us?” he asked.

“I didn’t take you for much of a gambler,” Callum said, trotting after Ben as he headed towards where the horses were being paraded out. “Or a sports lover.”

“Me? I love sports! All that tight spandex, bulging muscles and sweat pouring all over the place. What’s not to like?” he smirked back at Callum. “And it ain’t a gamble if you know you’re gonna win.”

“Yeah?” Callum said, leaning on the large white rail. “Come on then, which one of these is gonna get past the post first?”

“That one there,” Ben said, pointing to a dappled grey mare, it’s mane tightly braided to its neck. “Dorothy’s Purr. It’ll win by a head.”

Callum scoffed next to him. “You can’t possibly know how far the horse is gonna win by!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, I can,” Ben said with a shrug. “All the other runners have been paid off to let this one win by a head.”

“Unbelievable,” Callum said, shaking his head. “That takes away a bit of the magic, don’t it? Knowing the result.”

“The monkey I’ll have in my pocket from that tip can buy more than a bit of magic,” Ben exclaimed with a grin. “Trust me, you can get your sparkle, a bottle of decent whiskey, your cock sucked till it’s bone dry and still have enough for a kebab on the way home.”

“Well, no ones told the horses that have they?” Callum argued. “They ain’t got a clue that they ain’t supposed to win.”

Ben looked at him curiously. “You honestly think one of these Shetland ponies is gonna suddenly turn into Usain Bolt and power through when it’s been trained for months and months to obey its rider?”

“Look at that one there,” Callum said, pointing to a chestnut filly trotting along past them. “She’s chomping at the bit, you can see it. She can’t wait to get going. She’s looks in better nick than the grey and all.”

Ben stuck his hands in his pocket with a grin. “Alright then, I’ll put a bet on for you for that one,” he said, looking at the race programme. “Miko’s Paws. Come on, lets head up to the stands. Got the best view from there.”

Even in his suit, Callum had to admit that he felt out of place in the VIP stand. There were patrons scattered at the tables, some giving a passing glance to the huge glass window at one end of the room to see if the race was ready to start, and some were ignoring it altogether, only there in the first place for the networking and social opportunities it provided.

Both he and Ben were sat at a table near the window. It had been adorned with champagne, which Ben was already knocking back, and dainty little sandwiches without crusts next to perfectly cut finger cakes.

“Oi, mate?” Ben called out to a passing waiter. “You couldn’t get us something that’s gonna fill us up, could you? A bit of cucumber lumped in some Hovis ain’t cutting it!”

There were a few mutterings from nearby at the behaviour and some glances over to the stewards and management who adorned the room of their most valued guests. It was futile though. No one would dare to ask Ben to modify his manner.

“We should have stayed downstairs if you wanted something decent to eat,” Callum said, as the horses started to line up under starter’s orders. “They had some good grub down in the stands.”

Ben narrowed his eyes and looked towards him. “Why are you never happy with the places I take you?” he said. “You’ve got some of the best champagne produced right in front of you and the chef that made those soppy cakes has three Michelin stars. We’re sitting here in the lap of luxury and you want to pop down and sit with the riff raff and eat chips.”

Callum’s stomach rumbled at the thought of hot chipped potatoes, fried and crunchy on the outside and steaming and fluffy on the inside, coated with piercing salt and dripping in sharp vinegar. He had only eaten half a slice of toast that morning. He picked up one of the cakes, demolishing it in one go. “I prefer the donuts they do down the baker’s off the high street,” he said, swallowing it down and reaching for another one, and the horses were making their way round the first corner. “Your hot tip ain’t in front yet.”

“Trust me, my hot tip is primed and ready to poke ahead at any point!” Ben said, giving a wink to the waiter who placed a plate full of steak and some form of potato that had been latticed and baked. “Look there you go! She’s ahead now going into the final turn!”

Callum chewed down another cake, as Ben’s prediction seemed to be right. The grey mare was out in front, just a little, as they headed to the final furlong. “Wait,” Callum said, grabbing Ben’s arm. “Look!”

Out of nowhere, the chestnut filly was storming up on the stand side, her rider barely able to hold her back, and as they reached the winner’s post, it was impossible to tell which horse had a nose in front. “Oh fuck me! Are you fucking kidding?” Ben exclaimed loudly, looking accusingly at Callum. “That sodding donkey has got out a nostril in front!”

“Ben!” Callum hissed, as the mumbled murmurs got louder around them at the outburst.

“What? You think we’re gonna get chucked out?” he said, laughing loudly and throwing back another glass of champagne. “You could spread me against that window and screw me for the next two hours and this load of stuck up cunts wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it! No one gets the better of us, Callum! No one!”

“Yeah, alright!” he said, his head darting about, before he pulled Ben back down in his chair as he was starting to gesture out his threat to a couple behind them who were particularly indiscreet with their complaints. “Just sit down, yeah?”

“How’d you know about that horse?” Ben asked, pouring them both another drink. “You weren’t secretly a stable boy in your past were you? Cause I never really know with you and that would definitely tick a few things off the list.”

“Naah, never even ridden a horse,” he confessed. “Rode a donkey along the seafront once, but it chucked me off after five minutes. Closest I ever got was waiting outside the betting shop when I was a kid.”

He remembered it well, could almost take himself back there if he closed his eyes. Standing outside in the cold waiting for his dad and brother, as one after one, men entered through the doorway, the smell of stale tobacco wafting off them. Callum tried to peak in, but could only get a glimpse into the crowded room as long flaps of plastic blocked the view in. He could hear the occasional shouts as the first races already got under way, and remembered the glares as the occupants exited to make their way out, ready for when the pub opened.

“My mum used to have a flutter on the Grand National,” Ben said, softer and quieter now. “When I was old enough, I used to do the same, only in memory of her. Fucking thing always used to fall hoof over tit at the first hurdle though.”

“Why’d you come here today then?” Callum asked curiously.

“You gotta admit that the whole thing’s got a bit of showmanship and ceremony, don’t you?” Ben said, swirling his champagne in his glass. “Who don’t like that?”

“I think maybe it reminds you of your mum too,” Callum suggested, holding up a hand when Ben started to protest. “You don’t forget things do you? They’re always there. Sometimes it’s just lower, like it’s been turned down with a volume dial. Sometimes it blares out and just overtakes you. It never goes away though. You never forget.”

Ben gave a sniff and took another sip of his drink. “I used to really like stories when I was a kid, and I had a book of fables. You know, all those stories that got morals and tell you exactly where not to go fucking wrong in your life?”

“They did the trick with you then,” Callum said with a smirk, as he picked up his champagne.

“Oi, lippy! It ain’t too late to go and get a fit bit of arse to replace you here, you know?” Ben replied with a glare.

“Go on then,” Callum said, leaning back. The alcohol was rich and pleasant and gave him a buzz that washed everything else away. “I’ll go down and blend in with the commoners.”

“Oh shut up!” Ben exclaimed, shaking his head. “Can I finish my story? This book right, it had a fable about this peacock. It was always complaining that it didn’t have a good singing voice. He used to sit and watch as the other animals crowded around Nightingale who were just enraptured by her beautiful tone and song. They couldn’t take their eyes away.”

Callum knew how that felt. To be drawn in and intoxicated with just a look. “Peacock wanted a voice just as good as Nightingale,” Ben continued. “Wanted it more than anything, and he never stopped wanting that. One day, Fox had enough of listening to him complain and he told Peacock that he had the most beautiful feathers, the shiniest beak and the kindest heart, and he should just focus on those things he had rather than those things he wanted.”

“That’s what the moral was,” Callum concluded. “The peacock realised that you’ve got to appreciate what you got in life, not strive for something that’s impossible to get. Well, either that or it’s about a fox having the hots for a peacock.”

“I never understood it!” Ben said, leaning forward, the sound of the announcer muffled over the tanoy system. “I never got why Peacock had to just be happy and settle for those things, when it weren’t what he wanted.”

“He wanted the nightingale’s voice more than anything,” Callum suggested.

“No, he didn’t!” Ben corrected vehemently. “It wanted the attention that Nightingale had. The other animals never even really paid attention to Peacock. They didn’t appreciate him for who he was. It all came so easy for Nightingale, all he had to do was exist and they were all impressed. He didn’t even have to try.”

“The Fox!” Callum said in reminder. “He noticed the Peacock. He saw all the good things, and appreciated them. He might be only one that did, but one’s all you need. It is a world away from having none.”

“That’s the thing though,” Ben said, as his phone beeped. He picked it out of his pocket and glanced at the message. “Fox would have strolled in, all twinkly eyes, with a gorgeous grin and stood there looking stunning, saying all the right things. He would reel Peacock in, knowing what his weakness was, and make him believe that he was the one. But when it came down to it, Fox wouldn’t think twice about snapping his neck in two. Come on, we’ve got a meeting.”

Callum was more than a little surprised that there was another motive for them being at the racecourse that day. That was worrying. He was so distracted by the thoughts running around his head, and everything that Ben was doing, that he had almost pushed everything else aside. It wasn’t good enough, and he needed to get back in the game he was here to play.

“Just let me do the talking, alright?” Ben insisted as they walked towards the back of the stands near to the stables. “Callum! Alright?”

He nodded in confirmation as their path started to get emptier and emptier. He was starting to worry a little. There was just the two of them, and as far as he had seen so far, Ben didn’t take business deals without a good group of Smilers with him.

Just as they were reaching the stables, the smell of hay and manure heavy and insistent in the air, Ben stopped him and pushed him against a wall. “No matter what he says, you can’t react,” he told Callum, before reaching into his waistband and pulling out a gun. “We won’t need this, but you never know. I don’t go in without a back up plan, but you only use this if I tell you to, yes? No going off and blowing anyone’s brains into the straw. Callum, yes?”

“Alright,” he said, taking the gun and putting it in the waistband of his trousers, covering it with the jacket of his suit. He noticed that he was still receiving a suspicious look. “Alright, Ben! I said so, didn’t I?”

There wasn’t a chance for Ben to insist again, though he clearly wanted to, before a voice rang out as it came round the corner.

“Well, if it ain’t the Little Prince!” it said, and a middle aged man approached. He was dressed in a grey, dull suit with the only colour being a lemon pocket square peaking out. He came strutting in followed by a gang of five. They were outnumbered. “Daddy not had to come and rescue you yet? It’s only a matter of time Baby Smile. He’ll soon realise you’re paddling in the deep end without your armbands on.”

“Good to see you too, Danny!” Ben exclaimed, and all the worry seemed to wash off his face in an instant as he stood up proud and arrogant. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed my dose of elderly scouse wit. They let you out the home on day release? Got you all a little mini bus and everything by the looks of it. I thought we said we were going to meet alone?”

“I see you didn’t exactly take that to heart!” he sneered out, shuffling his gaze towards Callum. “What’s this? You been down the dole queue to pick up new members, or is this one of your dirty little bits of filth that follows you around?”

Callum noticed Ben’s muscles tense, just briefly, at the comment. “No, this one’s special, Hardcastle. This is a Highway.”

Danny let out a long laugh. “This place stinks to high heaven, but that’s still the biggest load of horse shit around!” he replied, giving another withering glance towards Callum. “You expect me to believe your latest arse licker is a Highway man? We both know there ain’t any of them left. If you’re looking to align yourself, you’re fifteen years too late, junior. Is that your little trick? Bring in some batty boy and pose him as a Highway in the hopes I’ll confess all? Even if it were all true, do you really think I have a conscience?”

“You broke the code,” Ben replied. “That ain’t about conscience, none of us are exactly on a clear path up to the pearly gates when we snuffle off this earth, are we? This is about a gentleman’s agreement and having the balls to follow through on it. Something you clearly didn’t have all those years ago.”

“I’ve always denied that were us!” Danny said, raising his finger and his voice. A few of his group shuffled slightly at the heightened tone. “I’m many things, but that weren’t down to the Hardcastles. Now why are we really here?”

Ben stepped a little closer. “This job that’s coming up. I wanna set some terms, make sure that it’s all done fairly and no one’s gonna pussy their way into it.”

Danny shrugged. “What job?” he said. “I’ve got a lot of business with the team up in Merseyside at the moment, nothing in London that interesting right now.”

“Now who’s stinking of shit?” Ben replied, his teeth gritted. “You know very well what fucking job. The horse that staggered in four furlongs after everyone else knows what fucking job! Unless you’re so out of touch, you really don’t know? Too busy with your dominos game with Mildred in the games room?”

“Alright, Mitchell,” he conceded. “What do you want?”

“It’s all fair game, we know that,” Ben said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “It’s first come, first serve; no grassing, no tactics, no bloodshed. Everyone’s a winner.”

Ben held his hand out, and it lingered in the air a few seconds before Danny grabbed it. “And your little gang of merry men have heard you say that,” Ben continued, gripping on to the handshake tightly. “I can’t say they’re going to be that impressed if their leader has to slink around with underhand moves cause he’s too much off a fucking coward to honour his agreement.”

With that, Ben let go off Hardcastle’s hand, and turned around, giving a nod to follow. Callum realised that Ben knew that Danny would turn up with people in tow. He wanted him to. He wanted there to be witnesses to hear. And now Callum knew exactly why Ben wanted him there as well.

They both carried on walking, their feet crunching at the gravel, until they reached the car and slid in. Ben put on his belt and then held his hand out with his eyebrows raised. “You think I’m gonna shoot you?” Callum muttered, taking the revolver out of his waistband and placing it in Ben’s grip.

“The mardy look on your face at the moment, I think anything’s possible,” Ben said, tucking the gun safely away. “Don’t start sulking. This weren’t a romantic bank holiday outing, and you know that.”

“All you wanted me for was to parade me infront of Hardcastle so you could get what you wanted,” Callum replied. “That’s the only reason it was me here instead of someone else.”

Ben leaned and looked out the window for a few seconds as the car turned out of the course and onto the road. “I told you I liked stories when I was a kid, yeah? Well, I’ve got another one for you that I used to hear. Once upon a time-“

“Not really in the mood for fairy tales, Ben,” Callum mumbled as he turned his head away.

“Tough, it weren’t a fucking request,” came the reply, as fingers harshly turned his chin around. “Once upon a fucking time, there were three kingdoms; the Red, the Blue and the Yellow Kingdom. In the past there had been great wars between the three, but now while there was no love lost, they managed to co-exist together and everyone knew their place.”

Callum’s eyes darted towards Ben’s and met them curiously. “The Blue Kingdom was the smallest, and stayed out of most of the disagreements. It often joined in an alliance with the Red Kingdom though, which was the biggest of the three. The Yellow Kingdom was never as prominent as it wanted to be, and though it was a time of peace, their king’s delusions of grandeur meant that he was never far off a battle cry.”

“One day, the Red Queen was out visiting her royal subjects, when-“ Ben stopped and took a breath. “When she was cut down in cold blood, her horse run off the road. At first it looked just like an accident, but when looking into it further, the King and his family found out that it was deliberate. The Queen had been murdered.”

“Ben-“ Callum started, when there was a pause in the story.

“I ain’t finished,” he said insistently. “No one admitted to it. The Blue Kingdom claimed it was the Yellow, and the Yellow claimed it was the Blue. None of them would own up to the death. Not long after, a rogue knight found his way into the Blue Kingdom and managed to dodge all the guards, getting into the castle. This knight assassinated the whole Blue Royal family; the King, the Queen, the Crown Prince and his daughter. All of them wiped out. All but one.”

Callum gulped, his palms feeling itchy and the air in the car feeling too tight. This wasn’t a story where he needed to hear the ending.

“Legend had it that the Little Blue Prince weren’t in the castle when the assassin knight struck,” Ben said. “He made a mistake, and as a result, that boy lived. The Red and the Yellow Kingdoms called a truce, all the Blue king’s followers and supporters disappeared into the neighbouring lands, and again no one admitted responsibility for the killings. It was just easier to go back to peace. The Red Kingdom regained its dominance, and the Yellow Kingdom seemed content to exist in its shadow.”

“And they all lived happily ever after?” Callum said, the break in his voice clear. He cleared it out, and turned to face Ben. There was too much running around his mind.

“I guess so,” he said with a nod, before cocking his head and narrowing his eyes. “I can’t stand an unanswered question though. I always wondered what happened to that little boy in blue. What he thought, what he was told and when he’d turn up. Maybe he never would and he’d go live a happy life in a little cottage with three gorgeous kids and a beautiful wife. Or maybe he’d slip in the chicken coop and snap a few necks.”

“It weren’t me that called the police,” Callum said, and he edged a little closer, looking Ben straight in the eye. He knew that was the accusation that was hanging between them. “That night at the warehouse. It weren’t me. I swear.”

Ben’s eyes seemed to freeze, to stab into him in an effort to read more. “Okay,” he said softly after a few seconds.

Callum wasn’t sure if he was being believed though. “I swear, Ben-“

“I said okay!” Ben snapped back, before rubbing his head in his hands. “It weren’t a coincidence, Callum. The police were called that night. I’ve got a rat in the castle, and I’m not gonna give up until they’re trapped.”

Ben dropped back with an exhausted sigh, and Callum leaned back into his seat as the journey continued.

Someone had called the police to the warehouse on Christmas Eve.

For once though, Callum wasn’t lying. He hadn’t called the police that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist - Chapter 5
> 
> A Kind of Magic - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0p_1QSUsbsM
> 
> Jealousy - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rSSmgXEKuY
> 
> Body Language - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2EDkv_dyeI
> 
> Don't Try So Hard - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7kUc5RcMqc
> 
> You Don't Fool Me - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9enOd3Z7vcY


	6. A Night At The Opera

Callum tapped his fingers against the bar and drew a line into the condensation on his glass. The warmth causing the droplets to tumble down the container rebelliously, pooling at the bottom. He looked at his watch, briefly; he didn’t want to appear like he was waiting for someone, just that he was here having a quiet drink. He couldn’t help but peer around.

The barman looked over to him, standing a little way over at the end of the bar. He gave a slight wink and a smirk. Callum looked down, his face warming at the action. He couldn’t blame the server, all he was seeing was a man appearing late in the evening, sitting at the bar with a glass of orange juice. He probably thought Callum was some obsessed stalker that always came in early to see him before meeting a friend.

This was the second time that Callum had met Whitney now, in the three weeks since New Year's Day and his outing to the races. In truth, there hadn’t been much more to report yet. There had been a few days where he had been in the office, before Billy got frustrated with him hanging about and complained to Ben when he tried to do the accounts. He had to admit that Maths wasn’t his strongest point, so it was a fair critique. Callum had mainly been out with Deakey, visiting associates that were moving through some goods for them, creating new contacts and possible deals and picking up packages. Occasionally, he went out with Flash and Nooky to make their house calls. He mainly stayed in the car with Ads though, listening in silence to Radio Two before the pair returned with bloodied knuckles.

It wasn’t by coincidence that he had been out and about with different members of The Smilers. It hadn’t been Callum that called the police, so that meant it had to be one of the other members. Ben had taken away any doubt that it was just a coincidence they turned up that night. Someone had brought them there.

With the knowledge that Ben was suspicious of those around him, came an extra level of fear for Callum. It meant he was being watched with a higher amount of attention than before. Ben had been nothing but courteous and professional towards him in the past few weeks and it was driving him crazy.

It wasn’t as though he could say anything. He wasn’t being treated any differently than a lot of the other employees. Ben would give him instructions when he was sitting in the office, the same as Buddy, who was still going a whiter shade of pale every time a Smiler came near him. Callum would receive a greeting and a goodbye, and even sometimes a slight question and a response.

That was all though. There wasn’t anything else. Every time Callum tried to look, tried to catch his eyes, Ben’s view was off, like he was looking past him rather than at him. He would still have a joke with Flash, still tease Ads and have a laugh with Deaks. It made Callum feel a pang of sharp jealously inside; he wanted that. He wanted to be the centre of Ben’s attention. He wanted to have him run his fingers along his arm, he wanted to have him smile towards him and bite his lip. He wanted that.

But he wouldn’t ask for it. He wouldn’t try and solicit it at all. That was one step too far. He couldn’t with Ben’s suspicions.

“Do you only drink orange juice?” Whitney asked with a small giggle, popping up on the barstool next to him. Callum thought he saw the bartender roll his eyes as she ordered a large chardonnay. “Teetotal undercover copper is a new one!”

Callum cringed slightly at the level of her voice, though there wasn’t anyone in earshot. He didn’t like it being said out loud though. He didn’t want anyone to know, just in case.

“Gotta keep alert, ain’t I?” he said, swigging around the last drops in his glass. “I ain’t never off shift.”

She smiled apologetically at him. “Yeah, I guess not,” she replied with a soft expression, drawing her hand down his arm in sympathy. “You got anything else? Hardcastle been back in touch?”

“Nah, we ain’t heard anything from him since New Year,” he replied. That was partly true. Callum hadn’t seen anything of the man, but he suspected Ben had some contacts he made use of to keep track of the other gang. He was too good to just assume his rivals would be playing by the rules. He’d have someone on Hardcastle’s tail for sure. Ben didn’t trust the other gang leader, and he’d want eyes on him all the time. “The nearer the job gets, I’m sure they’ll be contact though. Ben’ll wanna make sure he keeps to his side of the bargain.”

“You don’t know where it is yet?” Whitney asked, taking a sip of her wine. “You not eavesdropped around and heard a few whispers?”

Callum shook his head. “Nah, I’m just a dogsbody, ain’t I?” he reminded her. “We don’t get told nothing unless needed. I’m hardly high up in the chain of command, being new and that. Practically the tea boy!”

He knew he couldn’t tell her everything. Callum knew he had to keep some things to himself; he couldn’t risk the police storming in too soon. They weren’t in his position. They wouldn’t understand why he needed to bide his time and wait. There were whispers, rumours and mumblings that he picked up on when no one thought he was listening, but he wouldn’t admit those to anyone yet.

“Charming that is, ain’t it?” she said, downing her drink and slipping off the stool. “You’d think it would be all fast cars, hard cash and lavish doos as part of a large criminal gang, wouldn’t you? Turns out you’re just a dogsbody with your life owned by someone else! Who’d throw themselves into that? A job where you get ordered here, there and everywhere under the control of egotistical men!”

“You sure you ain’t describing our job?” he chuckled, trying to bring the mood a little lighter. Callum was pleased when Whitney’s face relaxed, and she squeezed his arm again. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything else. They way they’re talking, it can’t be that long. Feels like something big is in the air.”

There was laughter cascading throughout the room and Callum shuffled in his seat, frowning at the cards in front of him.

“Come on, Newbie!” Flash called out from across the table, sliding his finger along his card, his eyes narrowing up at Callum. “When I asked if you wanted to play and join in the game, I didn’t think I needed to add that I wanted to finish before my ball sack gets so old it drags along the floor.”

“Next week that Flash, ain’t it?” Ben called out from the next table in the pub. He gave a slight glance, just a flicker of his eyes back Callum’s way before his attention turned back to Deakey.

“Alright, I’m thinking!” Callum said, staring at all the cards. He had to make the right choice, and there were many different options he could take. Flash tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table in impatience. “Ok, I’ve got it. No wait, actually-“

Flash threw his arms up in the air. “Fuck me with a whippet’s tail! Bri? Get me a barrel of your stalest beer, would you?” he called over to the landlord, who waved away the mock request. “If this kid is gonna send me to an early grave while I’m waiting for him to make a move, I might as well go in a good way!”

“I thought you said you wanted to be smothered by a good pair of tits after eating a lobster and downing a bottle of aged whiskey?” Nooky said, glancing curiously at his own table. “You said, you’d die a happy man and that’s really the best you can hope for.”

Flash gave a shrug. “Always got a foot halfway in the grave in our job, ain’t you?” he said. It was the most sincere that Callum thought he had heard him, though it was masked with a tough clay expression that wouldn’t crack. “In our line of work you don’t have hopes for how you’re gonna live, but for how you’re gonna die.”

“Well, thanks for that cheerful note, Flash,” Ben said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Nothing makes a good evening out with you lot like talking about ending it all in a blaze of tits and lobster.”

“Do you believe in the after life, Boss?” Nooky asked. “Do you reckon there’s a heaven and you’ll go when you die?”

Ben gave a wry laugh. “Get to heaven?” he questioned, and Callum could feel his eyes on him again as he fluttered his fingers amongst the cards. “That’s too dull for me. Hell’s much better. I like the excitement.”

“If you don’t make a move soon, I swear I’m gonna finish us all off with papercuts to the eyeballs,” Flash, said pointing critically at him. “Your trouble is you’re too much in your head.”

“Fine!” Callum huffed, before taking one final look at the cards. “Does he have a beard?”

Flash looked down at his card, nestled gently in his ‘Guess Who’ board, flicking his eyes up and down to Callum, before giving a submissive nod of confirmation. “Fuck.”

Callum happily flicked most of the cards down on the board. “Is it Bernard?” he enquired, a grin appearing on his face as he knew he was right.

“You can’t ask that!” the other man protested, looking towards Ben for deference. “Boss, tell him he has to ask a question about what they look like when he’s still got some of his flaps up! Smilers’ Game Night rules, right?”

Ben nodded, taking a gulp of beer as he looked over to Callum and grinned. “He’s right,” he concluded. “We Smilers have rules and stick to them.”

“Alright, does this person look like Bernard?” Callum responded with a smirk. “That fit in your rules?”

“I’ll allow it,” Ben said smiling back.

Flash wasn’t quite as receptive. “Boss! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” he complained. “First he makes me wait half a day to make a move and now he’s bending the rules so he can win. No wonder some cocksucker shafted all his family if they were all as fucked as him!”

There was a scratching of a chair, and a sharp rise of air as Ben stood up and took a few steps towards the table that Callum and Flash were sat at. “Apologise,” he said through gritted teeth. The rest of the pub was silent.

“Boss, I-“

“Fucking apologise now, or you can get up off your arse and get out of my business.”

Callum didn’t know where to look. He didn’t want to be the cause of a conflict in the gang. That wasn’t part of the plan to blend in. He didn’t want to stand out. “Ben, it’s fine-“

He was stopped by a hand being held up. “Your choice, Flash,” Ben replied, and there wasn’t any judgment in his voice. It was a simple choice; black and white. “You’re in or you’re out.”

“Just a joke, Boss, weren’t it?” Flash said, shifting awkwardly in his seat as Callum looked down at his board and fingered Herman nervously. “Rookie knows I don’t mean nothing. We’ve all heard the stories. Sorry, Newbie.”

Callum gave a nod, as Ben went to sit back down. The game of Guess Who was abandoned, perching blankly on the table, seeming unimportant now. He knew it wasn’t just about the comment. Ben was testing his team’s loyalty, and as Callum looked around at the men playing games on the tables of the pub, he wondered who it was that would fail that test.

“Can’t we play Buckaroo, Boss?” Nooky complained for the fifth time that hour. “Or Jenga?”

“With your fucking hands you’d knock the whole bastard down in one go!” said Flash, seemingly bouncing back from his test. Callum noticed a slight tremble in his fingertips though, just as he got a cigarette out to light. There were no restrictions on what the Smilers could do in this pub, it seemed. No one was going to ask them to stop. No one was that stupid. “Remember that job where we had to climb over that fence and you fell on your arse on top of a fucking garden shed? Whole bastard thing shattered into pieces. The next day the owners reported an earthquake! Made the local news and everything!

Nooky slouched down in a huff. “I don’t care what I play, I just don’t want to play this!” he replied. “I don’t get the rules, it’s too weird.”

“It’s chess, Nooks,” Ben replied. “It’ll be good for you. Gets the brain working.”

“That’s true,” replied Nooks opponent, Deaky, peering over a pair of glasses. “A good chess player always thinks three moves ahead.”

“Maybe, but the best chess players only think one move ahead,” Ben replied, nudging Nooky to make a play. “It’s always the correct one, though.”

“Nooks struggles to think about the step behind him, don’t you mate?” Flash called out to the man sliding his pawn to the next square. “I blame the education system. School did him no good. Didn’t help that he got the dates mixed up and only turned up during the holidays!”

Everyone started to laugh, but Nooky sat up in protest. “I went to school! My dad drove us every day!” he replied, frowning when Deakey moved his knight.

“You got driven to school every day?” Ads piped up. The man had been sitting playing a round of battleship with one of the other Smilers. Callum didn’t know how he was managing to sink all his opponents ships when he didn’t even say a word. “La dee fucking da!”

“My dad used to drive us there every morning,” he replied, chewing at his lip as his indelicate fingers knocked over a castle. It rolled around the board for a few seconds before falling to the floor. “He always got dressed, read the paper and then sat in the car waiting for me. It was only a five minute journey, it weren’t far. Could have probably walked it for the same amount of time for the traffic on the way. We always listened to the same tape on the way, some old band he liked. It were always the same song though. Every morning. It were weird because if he’d driven straight back home after, the tape would have started in a different place every day.”

“He kept driving after he dropped you off?” Callum surmised sadly.

“I guess so. He weren’t working then, it weren’t good times I don’t think, lots of his friends were on the rock and roll too cause they couldn’t find no jobs about. Don’t even know how we kept the car to be honest. I don’t know where he could have went that took up two sides of a tape of driving. I ain’t even sure that he went anywhere.”

“Do you still see your dad, Nook-“ Callum started to ask, before Ben shook his head at him, staring him in the eye to convey his message. “You know what, I was always in trouble at school. Never turned up on time, wore the right thing or had the right thing. Got a right bollocking off the head once for turning up in a ratty pair of trainers rather than school shoes.”

“You’re an army boy though,” Ben said, tapping at the board to show Nooky where to move his next piece. “They banged all that rebellion out of you, did they?”

Deakey peered over his glasses, moving his knight again. “It’s like he ain’t even in the house, he keeps so tidy,” he said, before leaning back. “I swear the missus would be happy if it were just him, her and the cat and chuck me out all together!”

“I think you’d be chuffed at that and all, Deaks!” Flash laughed, stubbing out his cigarette on the table and throwing the butt onto the floor. “Let Rookie here take all the waffle and strife, and you can stroll in for your once a week seeing too once the lights are off.”

“How do I even win this?” Nooky complained. “Get rid of that big fella with the cross?”

“The King ain’t worth the bit of plastic he’s formed into,” Ben replied. “It’s the Queen you gotta take down. That’s where all the power is. And right now, Deaks’ castle is getting close to taking yours.”

“I ain’t never gonna get the hang of this,” Nooks replied pouting. “Give me a face to smash in any day of the week rather than fiddling about with a load of prawns.”

“It’s pawns,” Ads muttered from where he was sinking battleships.

Nooky picked up one of the pieces and grimaced at it. “Why they called porns? Is it cause they look like a wadger?”

“If your dick looks like that, Nooks then you wanna get down doctors quick!” Flash called out. “They give you a fucking cream for that.”

Callum noticed Ben get up and stroll over to Bri, leaning over the bar and whispering in his ear. The landlord nodded, before pouring Ben a whiskey which he downed in one. “Right time, ladies and gentlemen!” Bri called out to the punters who were lolling into their pints. “Get your arses out of here now!”

The various members of the public gave a mumble of dissent, but no more. This was clearly not an uncommon occurrence. When the door slammed shut for the last time, Bri gave Ben a nod and then locked up the bolt. There was about to be some news that wasn’t for unfamiliar ears.

“There’s a warehouse,” he started, strutting back and hauling himself up to perch on the bar. “Well, three actually, over by the Monserrat estate. It’s where the filth keep all the knocked off gear they collect.”

“What like tellys and stuff?” Nooky asked, looking around. There had been a change in the tone of the bar. Game Night was over, if it had really been the purpose for the evening at all.

Flash tutted loudly at him. “It ain’t where they shove the evidence bags for the nine year old shop lifters, you twat!” he criticised. “We ain’t talking stereos and a few old bikes, are we Boss?”

“It’s the Holy Grail,” Ben reiterated. “That’s what they say. All the stuff their seize at customs; millions and millions in gear.”

“That’s all good and well, but if it’s the cup of Christ, then it ain’t gonna be sitting there with the door wide open, is it?” Ads reminded them. “What’s the catch, Boss?”

“They’re ain’t no catch,” he replied. “We get in, we get the gear, we get out. The problems comes with how we get in and out without getting caught.”

Flash shook his head. Even he looked a little reluctant at the challenge. “Security will be tighter than a nun’s arse; they ain’t gonna stick some plod out there who ain’t even passed finger painting yet. We’re gonna need an inside man.”

“I’m working on that,” Ben replied. “We need more information so we can plan for this properly, it ain’t no slash and dash. We gotta get the details dead on or we’ll be out of there in body bags.”

There was an unsaid implication. If they get caught, they don’t get arrested, they don’t let the organisation be tainted. If you get caught you don’t surrender, you go out all guns blazing.

“Where we gonna get that from?” Ads asked. “What about Hardcastle? He’s after a bite of the cherry, ain’t he?”

“There’s three warehouses; we’ve agreed he gets the two littlun’s,” Ben explained, and there was a grumble of disdain around the room. “We get the big one! It’s higher risk, but higher reward and the Hardcastles can have their little nic nacs they collect. It’s the only way we can assure whatever plan we have gets put through without him blowing it up.”

“What is the plan then?” Ads asked. It was the most that Callum had ever heard him talk. It intrigued him a little, this quiet driver who was coming to the front. It made him realise that he had only known these men a little while. “You got one, ain’t you?”

Ben gave a sigh, clearly frustrated with the questions he was receiving rather than the blanket acceptance of his ideas that he was clearly hoping for. “I told you, I’m working on it! These things take time. I ain’t here to put anything at risk, and if any of you want out then off you jolly well pop; you know where the door is!” he stated, looking around at the faces. No one would leave. Not only because they would want to show their loyalty, and to prove they weren’t scared of the challenge, but also because there was a risk they’d have a bullet in their back before they even reached the door.

“We ain’t going nowhere, Boss,” Deakey spoke out. Callum looked across at him, realising he had been quiet so far. “We trust you and we’ll trust the plan. We know where our loyalties lie.”

There was a mumble of agreement between The Smilers, following on from Deakey’s lead. There was a glance between the older man and Ben, that if Callum didn’t know any better he’d interpret as tension. That maybe there wasn’t all truth behind Deakey’s words, and in response Ben was feeling a little inferior due to the fact the men had only stopped their questioning when Deakey spoke up. The power wasn’t always where your attention was being fed.

“Right, now fuck off home,” Ben said, pulling himself down from the bar, and nodding his head towards the door. “Otherwise next game night I’m bringing Twister, and you’ll end up with Flash’s cock in your face. See you bright and early tomorrow.”

They all filtered out, nodding and muttering their goodbyes to Ben who stood up with his head held high at the bar. Soon there was only him, Deakey and Callum left.

“You still ok to take care of the package, Deaks?” Ben asked, looking towards the older man. Callum started to tidy up, clearing glasses and placing them on the bar. Bri was nowhere to be seen, he seemed to understand when to make himself present and when to fade slightly into the background with a subtle knowledge and talent. “You know how important this is?”

“I said I’d do it, Boss,” Deakey responded, putting on his coat. “I always keep my word, you know that. You need it for tomorrow?”

Ben nodded, almost soberly. “I do. We’ve talked about the risk, we’ve been over this a thousand times!” he insisted. “It’s not that I don’t hear your argument, Deaks, but I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to. They’re ain’t no other choice as far as I’m concerned. You alright getting it sorted for tomorrow?”

Callum couldn’t hide the fact he was eavesdropping, but whatever the package was that they were talking about, they clearly didn’t mind him knowing. Well, at least knowing it existed. He was no wiser of knowing what was actually in it.

“Yeah, me and the wife are going down to the coast for the night,” he started to explain. Callum knew about this; Mrs Deacon had talked of nothing else but going down to the seaside, and the little hotel they were staying at which they went to for their honeymoon. It made his heart purr slightly, the pure joy, love and romance she had in her voice when she talked about strolling with Deaks along the promenade, just the two of them as the whole world just faded away into the sounds of the sea and the scent of the salt. It sounded beautiful. It sounded unachievable. “But it’ll get to you before then, Boss. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Cheers, Deaks,” Ben said, and there was more of a softness in his voice there, more of a trust than he showed towards the older man in front of the other Smilers. “It’ll work out alright, I swear.”

Deakey gave a wry laugh. “The words of youth that, son!” he replied, the hint of familiarity creeping through rather than the usual deference. “Right, well I better be off before Mare locks the door on me. You keeping the barman with you, or can he clock off for the evening?”

It took Callum a few seconds to realise they were talking about him, and he looked up wide eyed from where he was stacking the glasses. They were both staring at him expectantly and waiting for him to respond. “Oh, well I quite fancy the walk home, Deaks,” he stuttered out, looking down at a water ring on the bar. He just followed what his heart was telling him, and muffled the voice from his brain. “I won’t be late, I’ll just help out clearing up here.”

Deakey raised his eyebrow at him as he gave a long sigh, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Well, make sure you aren’t,” he warned, strolling his way to the door. “Mary will do her nut if she got you knocking in the early hours.”

As the door swung shut, Callum heard Ben click the bolt. He licked his lips as he shuffled the tumblers around and stepped to the farthest table to collect some more glasses. There were heavy footsteps that thumped behind him and back over to the booth, but Callum didn’t look. He just carried on tidying, bending over to pick up stools and place them on the tables.

“As much as I like this view of your arse, we both know you didn’t stay to play Snow White and clean the bar,” Ben called out after a few minutes. Callum almost smiled, but wouldn’t let it travel to his face. He knew he had won and Ben had broken first. Maybe just a little, and in a small way, but it was something. “Will you come sit the fuck down, and bring the whiskey with you?”

Callum leaned over the bar and grabbed the bottle and two clean glasses, walking over to see Ben leaning back in the booth with his feet up on a chair. He placed everything down before pouring a large amount from the whiskey for each of them. Without even looking, he sat on the other side of the booth mirroring Ben’s stance, and leaning closer so both their heads were resting on the back of the seat, just inches apart.

“You’re not ignoring me anymore then,” he said after a moment, looking up to the ceiling. It was a provocative question, but one that had been itching at him over the last few weeks.

There was a silence, and Callum wasn’t sure if the line had been overstepped. “I told you, I gotta keep my distance,” Ben’s voice returned, low and deep, and it soothed Callum a little. Just the sounds and the scratch of its timbre seemed to be repeated in his mind. “Never said you had to keep yours though. Couldn’t get away fast enough from me, could you? Going on your little day trips with all the fellas on their jobs. Fuck me, I thought you were gonna do a round with the milkman you were putting your fingers in so many pies.”

“I’m working in the business, I gotta know about it, don’t I?” he responded, hiding the real answer. They had both been avoiding each other, that much was clear. That had probably been for the best. It didn’t make it easier or take away the excruciating temptation that had been building in Callum the last few weeks. He was so annoyed with himself for getting side-tracked, and attempted to will away all the feeling that kept bubbling up, sparking and exciting his body and mind. It was rebellious and acting against his wishes, but it was too blissful to want to run away from.

There was a small touch on the back of his hand, a finger being traced and it sent his hairs standing on edge instantly, a chill of tingles etching and scrawling their way through his body and knocking at every nerve. It was already too much and too little.

There wasn’t any other words shared, not for a while. Callum just let Ben trace his finger in circles and lines over the back of his hand; there was no rhythm, no purpose and no predictability and that just enhanced the feeling even further. He closed his eyes tighter, leaning his head back more. The act of not seeing just heightened his imagination, and he let his mind wander and it felt as if the tracing fingers were drifting around his body.

Callum could hear himself breathing and he knew that wasn’t just in his head, as his exhaling was raspy and strained and he had to keep gulping back so he could swallow down a moan. He could feel himself hardening, the arousal in his body amplified and ever growing from just the potential and the possibility. The excitement that drew from what could happen.

The touch stopped though, and disappointment and frustration started to shatter through him. Only for a moment though, until he sensed movement. A few seconds later there was a hand being rubbed up his thigh and fiddling with a loop for his belt. Callum could tell the direction of the fingertips, and suddenly realised that Ben was on the floor in front of him.

Callum grasped out a hand wildly, knocking harshly into the table that was over his legs at first. before finding Ben’s head and gently stroking through his hair. There was a gasp and groan of enjoyment from below as he felt himself be nuzzled and kissed up his thigh, the thickness of his jeans annoying and restrictive when it was the sensation of lips on skin that he craved. Eventually, he grew impatient, using his threaded fingers to move Ben’s head closer and he let out a guttural sigh when he felt pressure on his cock.

“Took me five attempts to fix the chain on that bog!”

Callum’s eyes burst open and he heard a crack and a curse from Ben, looking down to see him rubbing his head from where he hit it on the table, and with a face like thunder.

“Oh, sorry, Mr Mitchell,” Bri apologised, standing frozen in the pub like a hunted deer. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I didn’t know you was here with someone. That’s to say I didn’t know this one was your…I didn’t know! God, I’m so sorry Mr Mitchell! The lav chain was knackered and I thought I’d fix it quickly, but turns out-“

“It’s fine, Bri!” Ben said getting to his feet and halting the waffling man from going any further. His eyes stroked down Callum’s body, and he realised what he must look like. Still breathing heavily, dick straining at his jeans and cheeks flushed and posy tinted. He didn’t want to stop, he wanted to haul Ben back down, push his head back onto his cock and get him to finish what he had started. He didn’t care who else was in the room. He didn’t care. He should care.

“Don’t leave on my account!” the nervous landlord stuttered out, but it was clear he was in less of a panic now he wasn’t immediately pulled apart for interrupting. “I can go elsewhere. January’s always nice for an evening walk!”

“We’re going, Bri,” Ben said pulling at the collar of his coat as he started to stagger towards the door. His hair was sticking up slightly and Callum wanted to flatten it down. Or twist it around his fingers and grip on. “I ain’t gonna make you trot around at this time of night in the middle of winter. Besides, there’s no reason for you to leave. It weren’t like you saw nothing. Did you?”

The trembling cheeks on the landlord returned at the tone of Ben’s words. The implication was clear. You don’t say anything to anyone. Callum sensed this wasn’t the first time Bri has been given this warning. He had to be keeping a lot of secrets to be so close in proximity to the Smilers.

“Course not, Mr Mitchell,” Bri said with a nod and a smile that looked like he was using all his muscle strength to pull his lips into that position. “You have a good night.”

Callum rolled his eyes when Ben whistled his teeth for him to follow. He stayed sitting for a moment, not wanting to jump at the order, and the rebellion made Ben shake his head and turn towards the door. He followed him out eventually, the sting of the air hitting and cooling his cheeks.

“We’re going out tomorrow night,” Ben said, not looking him in the eye. He just pulled his coat closer around him as a car pulled up to the pavement. “I’ll let you know the details.”

If he was expecting Callum to ask where, or even why, then he didn’t wait around for the question. Instead, he jumped in the car as soon as it had stopped and the vehicle started moving again almost as quickly.

Callum let out a breath and leaned against the wall. He squinted towards his jeans in the dim lamp light, confused when he found a knotted piece of thread attached to his belt loop. He was getting in too deep now, and he wasn’t sure how to get out. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

“Will you stop looking around like you expect us to get chucked out at any second!” Ben scolded him.

“I can’t help it!” Callum whispered back in a hiss. “I ain’t never been to a proper theatre like this! I went to panto with school once, but it ain’t quite the same!”

In the office that morning, Ben had given him instructions to go to Mr Taylor’s to get a suit for the evening.

“I’ve already got a suit from the last time you dragged me somewhere!” he argued, his tone clearly not appreciated if Ben’s narrowed eyes were anything to go by.

“You can have more than one suit, Callum!” Ben scowled back. “You wore that one to a race track! I ain’t rocking up with someone wearing a suit with horse shit on the cuffs!”

Callum had let out a huff and not even waited for a reply, instead storming down to Mr Taylors and having an afternoon listening to whatever piece of gossip he was patrolling people with that day. The tailor looked thoroughly bored when Callum told him about the Deacons night away at the seaside, though he still managed to parle back anecdotes of interest.

When he had got in the car that evening, Ben was gazing out the window. He didn’t even acknowledge Callum the whole ride there, not looking at him or noticing him at all. It was as though he was stopping himself deliberately.

The car finally stopped, and Callum couldn’t take the silence then. “Are you gonna acknowledge me then?” he spat out. “Or am I gonna have to follow you around in silence the whole night?”

“Not here,” Ben said quickly, in barely a whisper before getting out the car and beckoning for Callum to follow.

When they got out the car, Callum couldn’t help but look up at the grandeur of the glass fronted building encased in light in the centre of Covent Garden. “We ain’t seeing an opera, are we?” he asked, as Ben took a few steps back when he had stilled. “I don’t know nothing about opera!”

Grabbing his arm, Ben led him to the door, practically thrusting the tickets in the attendant’s face. “They ain’t expecting you to sing, Callum!” he replied, taking the tickets back and heading inside. “All you gotta do is shut up and watch. Now, I know keeping your gob shut maybe a bit of an issue-“

“You’re one to talk!” he whispered back, following Ben up the soft crimson carpet that brushed gently against his shoes. “You gonna tell me what this is about, or what?”

Ben opened his mouth to speak before pausing, the blood rushing from his face. Callum could almost hear his heart speed up from where he was standing, and he spun his head around to see what Ben was looking at and when he found out, he knew he must have gone pale too. Thompson.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Baby Mitchell out for the night,” the detective said, strolling towards them with his hands in his pockets and a woman following a few steps behind. Callum wondered what he was doing here. He seemed as likely to follow the opera as Callum did. “Ain’t it passed your bedtime?”

“I wouldn’t have thought culture was your thing, Detective Chief Inspector,” Ben said, holding his head high, and Callum noticed the panic left his face and replaced with a haughty arrogance. All except his eyes. If you looked close enough into Ben’s eyes you could always see what he was hiding. “If you’re looking for the red light district then you’ve taken a wrong turn. But I’m sure you’ve sampled their delights before.”

“Bit hypocritical isn’t it, Mitchell?” Thompson replied and he turned his head towards Callum. “This one picked from a catalogue was it, or did you just take a punt and accept whatever they sent you? I assume you’re paying by the night rather than the hour if you’re wining and dining him before hand.”

Callum didn’t respond. In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to act. It must have been a surprise for Thompson to find him here, otherwise surely he would have warned him, taken the opportunity to check in and see how the operation was going.

“Well, as much as I’d like to stop and chat, I’ve got a box to get to,” Ben stated, before peering at the tickets Thompson held. “That’s the upper dress circle. If you squint really hard through some binoculars, you might be able to see the stage. Toodaloo.”

With that, he took Callum by the hand and led him away. Ben didn’t rush, probably aware that Thompson was still watching, and Callum curled his fingers tighter. Even if it was just for a second, it felt audacious and being able to do it without Ben pulling away, but it also just felt right. There hadn’t been many things in his life that had felt like they were just meant to be. When one came along, he noticed.

Ben led him up some stairs and held open a curtain for him to walk through. It wasn’t a large space, just enough for a couple of chairs next to each other, but it was the view around them that captured Callum’s attention. There were thousands of seats, all lit up under a roof that seemed to go up to eternity, as if it were made in heaven and just lowered a little to reach the building.

“You can sit down you know,” Ben remarked almost a little shyly, letting go of Callum’s hand when he realised he was still holding it. “If you fall over that rail, I ain’t gonna miss the start to pick up your corpse off the aisle!”

Callum looked back and gave him a grin. “Get your copper mate to do it, can’t you?” he responded. He wanted to pry a little, poke just a bit to see how Ben would respond.

“Oh stop, I should have smelt the bacon stench wafting from outside,” he said before shaking his head and sitting down. “Don’t worry about him, I ain’t letting it ruin the evening. There should be champagne around here somewhere.”

As Ben started to look around the box, Callum began to consider why he was here. It couldn’t really be just a night out at the opera. There had to be more. “What we really doing here then?” he asked, when Ben let out a delighted gasp at finding the bottle of drink. “What you got planned?”

Ben’s face fell a little at the blatancy of the question. He shuffled a little nearer on his seat. “There’s a meeting later,” he said in a whisper, though there was no one around them to hear. “About the warehouse job. I’m getting some information that will help everything go to plan.”

“A meeting with who?” Callum asked, though the question was ignored. “Ben?”

“They ain’t brought any glasses in!” Ben said, changing the subject. “Cheeky bastards. You’d think with what we pay, you’d getta drink outta gold goblets!”

Callum shrugged. The conversation about the meeting was clearly over, and he wasn’t going to push it. “S’alright, we’ll just neck it,” he said, taking the bottle from Ben’s hand and starting to unwrap it.

“It ain’t a can of larger, Callum,” Ben replied with a smile, as Callum popped the cork off. It went sailing over the side of the box to the crowd below. “Jesus, you’re something else.”

With that, Ben took the bottle, lifting it up to take a gulp before passing it back. The lights started to blink and lower and the accompanying toots and roars of the instruments warming up started to settle. Callum put the champagne to his lips, the frothy bubbles tickling his nose as he tasted the liquid. It was rich and dry and clearly more expensive than a bottle of Lambrini which was the closest he’d ever got to champagne.

As the performance started, they continued to pass the bottle between each other, when before too long there was none left. Callum leaned forward resting his arms on the balcony rail as he tried to follow the story on stage.

“Do you like it?” Ben whispered, as he followed suit, leaning forward and resting his chin on his arms, peering over the side and out onto the show.

“Not really, it ain’t in English!” Callum exclaimed, maybe a little too loudly when he noticed a few heads below look up. The champagne had gone straight to his head, and his motions felt a little stifled and slow.

“It’s one of the world’s greatest love stories!” Ben tutted next to him. “You don’t have to know what they’re saying, you just follow along with the feeling. Look, their family is having a party, yeah? And those two have seen each other and fallen in love, but they’re supposed to be enemies. They’re from different houses. One of her cousins is suspicious, but her fella’s wearing a mask so he can’t be sure it’s one of his rivals.”

Callum listened along for a few minutes. “They seemed to just know, didn’t they? As soon as they met, they both knew there was something there,” he mused, the alcohol drifting the thoughts out of his head. “That must feel amazing. Whenever I meet someone, I’m just counting down the seconds until they leave me. I don’t have hope because there isn’t any. It always turns out the same way, always. People come along, they say all the right things in all the right ways and then they turn their heads away for something better. For someone better.”

There was a silence at first with his comments. “I don’t know if people talk to me because they feel obliged to, or if they want to,” Ben confessed. “I think if they took all this away; my family and the business, then no one would want to know. If they saw the real me then they would leave. Everyone always leaves.”

“I wouldn’t,” Callum said, turning his head on his arms. It was a lie considering his situation, but he wanted it to be true. He wanted it to be true so badly.

The lights started to come up, and he noticed Ben turn his head away, running his hand down his face. “It’s the interval,” he said, getting up out of his chair. “I’ll go and get us some more drink. You happy to bolt down a two hundred bottle of Moet again, or would larger suit you better.”

“I’ll have whatever’s on offer,” he smiled back. “Oh and ice cream. They have ice cream right? They did when I want to the panto.”

Ben shook his head and exited through the curtain, laughing as he went. Callum sat back in his chair, taking in the sounds of the chatting crowd and closing his eyes. He’d never really had a night out like this, just being with one person, enjoying himself without a care in the world.

Callum opened his eyes. Only that wasn’t true. He did have things he needed to care about. This wasn’t a romantic evening out. Getting up quickly from his seat, he threw open the curtain and darted his head back and forth to see if he could get a sight of Ben. There were people milling slowly around, blocking his view so he went a little further, following the red carpet down.

Finally, he saw him, hidden by a wall and almost out of sight. Callum tiptoed closer, standing next to a side table with a beautiful vase of geraniums, noticing Ben gesturing and talking just ahead of him. He couldn’t hear though and if he went any nearer then he would be seen. He leaned on the table to crane his neck, and he could just make out a glimpse of a dress poking out from the corner. If he could just see a little further, then he could get a view of the person.

There was a crash as the table toppled and the vase fell to the floor, the flowers scattering everywhere and blending in with the scarlet carpet. Callum quickly looked up to just see a flutter of someone running away, and Ben’s furious face staring back at him.

“What are you doing out here?” he spat out towards Callum as he walked determinedly over to him.

“I come to see where you were,” he lied with a shrug, as attendants came to kneel between them and clear up the mess. “I thought you were out here getting a drink.”

The accusation was clear in the air. “You not trust me, that it?” Ben responded, shame, guilt and anger freckling his face. “Remember who you’re talking to, Callum! I’m the boss and you can be out of this gang quicker than you got in it!”

Callum shook his head and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Nah, that don’t wash with me,” he said, though he knew he should be apologising, should be putting the undercover mission first. “You can play that game with Deaks, Bri and Flash. You can put all the front on you like in front of the police and the Smilers, but I see you, Ben. You can stand there and spout out about all the rules you like, but the truth is you’re running scared.”

With that, Callum turned around and headed towards the door. He didn’t look back.

When he got back to the Deacon’s house, he went straight through to the kitchen and sat down at the table. His fingers picked at a petal of a delphinium that sat in a vase, the indigo softness painting hands. Callum finally let himself breathe. With every step he took on the walk back, he felt filled up with regret. He’d thrown away a beautiful evening because of the lies he was living. He wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore. He only knew what felt real. Callum trusted in that, but it led him down a path where he had no idea how it would end.

The house felt empty, strange without anyone in it. It was like a shell when no one was home; cold and dark and like a stage setting that wasn’t being used. There didn’t even seem to be sign of Queenie about.

Just as Callum put the kettle on, there was a knock. He second guessed himself at first but after a few seconds it sounded again. Walking down the hallway, the tension in his shoulders fell when he saw the familiar shape through the glass of the front door.

Callum turned the catch and opened it wide, refusing to talk first when he saw Ben standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking at him as though he were the most curious question on earth.

There seemed to be a click through, something that made his mind up.

“Fuck it,” Ben exclaimed as he launched himself through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Six Playlist
> 
> Feelings, Feelings - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gma3EwQbWjI
> 
> You and I - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ir05RhMqpPI
> 
> You Take My Breath Away - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_wLNqUz7pM
> 
> Ride the Wild Wind - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlRyk4CXXCI


	7. Don't Stop Me Now

There was a second, just an instance, that Callum thought that Ben knew. It was a flash of thought through his head, that Ben had somehow found out about everything and he was flying towards him to take him down, put a gun against his head and pull the trigger. It would be over just like that and Callum would never know the unfolding of the events that would follow.

It was just a brief fleeting moment though, and when an eager fist pulled at his shirt, he didn’t hesitate to meet Ben’s lips. It was barely a rough brush but it was forceful and with intent, and when Callum leaned his head back, Ben’s gasped breath met warmly against his cheek. Callum could see the whiteness of his knuckles as they gripped on to him even tighter, his hands almost bubbling in a tremble with the tension.

Ben’s eyes were looking up at him, darting to and fro, the blue seeming tinted as an artic iceberg, the stars reflected down in it, and the blackness circular like the dark hollow depths of the seas. They weren’t blinking. They wouldn’t in case they missed a response to a question they were asking. He wouldn’t do anymore, wouldn’t even move a millimetre before Callum gave his response. He knew that Ben had played his hand, and wasn’t about to go any further until Callum took a step in return.

The house was quiet, and somewhere in the distant a cat was mewing its distaste on the street. Callum felt that time had stopped. It was waiting for him, the whole world was waiting, his whole world was waiting, and he had a decision to make.

There were times in life when you could be rational. Where you could resist the little temptations that came your way, the ones that were bound to knock you from your ordinary path. Then there were ones that were monumental, that were destined not to just knock you from your path but drag you away in a whirlwind so you could never find your way back. Callum had never experienced one of those before. He’s always been able to resist. Now, at the worst time, he found himself being unable to. And he didn’t care.

Leaning in slowly, he could see that Ben’s eyes didn’t flicker yet, almost as if he were expecting Callum to change his mind and wouldn’t believe it was happening until it happened. He was still still when Callum softly took his lip between his own, his mouth feeling dry as his pounding heart beat seemed to drain away any solid feeling and leave just a heady fluttering through his face.

That one simple kiss turned to two. And then three. Soon, he had Ben pressed against the door, the woodwork clattering as the other man was grunting, rapidly shaking off his coat and jacket.

Callum felt his own jacket be shrugged off and his tie swiftly removed. There was a clawing at his shoulder and tightening of the material at his elbow, as he wouldn’t let his hand be moved from the back of Ben’s neck.

There was a light that shone through the window glass, enflaming the hallway in a bright glow. It should have been sobering but it was like the moon had switched its purpose and lit everything around them. It shone onto Ben’s face like a spot light and Callum just wanted to dive in like a moth, not caring if his wings buzzed and burned like a tiny Icarus scorned by the sun.

Callum leaned back from the door, reached out an arm and pulled Ben by his belt loop towards him. His body clattered into Callum, just the solid feel making him want to press and keep him there, the body to body contact heating and heightening everything. Ben’s hands instantly went around to his back, as his legs were tiptoed, lifting up his head to he could spackle eager kisses onto Callum’s mouth, each being placed in a different position, sometimes only grappling and landing on air with the frantic movement. It was though the kiss was important, as if it had been denied for too long, and it was what Ben had been craving.

Callum’s tongue darted out, and caught onto Ben’s lip, just making the other man breath heavier and moaning for it as if his lungs were craving the oxygen it provided. Their kisses were frantic, opened mouths with tongues nudging in out, and lips and teeth catching. It was dirty and intense, and Callum wondered how he had lived without this. He wondered if he could learn to live without this now he’d tasted it.

With a thud, his heels hit the back of the first step of the stairs. Perhaps that too should have sobered him up, knocked the sense into him that had clearly fluttered away. It didn’t though, and he threaded his hands through Ben’s hair deeper now, scratching the tips against his skin causing Ben to attempt to scrabble up him with such force them both stumbled into the banister.

Callum was perched, his bottom on the edge of the fourth stair, while his feet were still resting on the hallway carpet. He had to remove one of his hands to grab at a pole in the bannister, his fist gripping round it tightly. Ben was half on top of him, straddling his thigh, with one hand resting on a step above Callum’s head. The other was clawing and rubbing at his chest, fingering its way down the buttons, ripping at the material in place to gain access to skin.

Ben’s fingertips felt like fire against his body, and it was as if they were bubbling together in a furnace. There was no heating on in the thin walled house, and the chill in the air outside should have rendered it biting in the dark space. With every touch though, Callum felt heat rising around him, destroying and burning the ice that existed. They were in the middle of the flames. They were fire.

Callum moved the hand that wasn’t gripping on to the stairs, down to Ben’s neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. It was a little slower and Callum felt his lip being pulled into Ben’s mouth, sucked noisily before being nipped and licked in consolation. He moved his hand down, squeezing Ben’s bum so he could encourage him to shuffle further up his thigh.

Dropping his hand from the banister, he put both hands on Ben’s arse, squeezing through the thin material. There was a whimper into his mouth, and Callum could feel his heart speed up, practically thumping on his chest and out of his ear, the rhythm pounding between their bodies, calling for them to join in with the melody.

Ben seemed to comply as he started to thrust and twist his hips, and Callum sunk his hands in further to set a pace he wanted as Ben pressed onto his cock. He was hard, straining against the restrictive material of his trousers, and there was nothing more he wanted than to have Ben's skin against it. At the moment though, he was too busy grunting into Callum’s ear, every sound shooting down to his dick and twisting at it to fire the nerves. He could feel Ben try to speed up, his breath coming out in starts, and Callum had to grip the banister again, fisting his fingers tightly around the bulbous shape, his palm slipping up and down slickly onto the wood.

After a moment Ben stopped, and it almost felt painful, just the ghost of the sensation rapidly disappearing from Callum’s body, like an echo you were trying to chase. Ben leaned back a little, so they were almost nose to nose, leaning forward with his eyes dead open on Callum’s and gave him the sweetest short peck to the lips. “Upstairs,” he said, and it came out in a gravel, his hair tousled and his cheeks dusky and scorched.

Ben leaned up, swinging his leg over and pulling himself up by the banister. Callum did the same, turning on his step and heading up the stairs. He felt two hands press themselves into his hips, gripping on tightly as though they were afraid he’d disappear if they let go. They were weighty as he reached the landing, anchoring him and pulling him into a world he knew he shouldn’t disappear into, but one that was calling at him. One that had seemed to be calling for a long time. Now he was here.

They reached the bedroom, and Ben had swivelled himself round, leaning up and placing his head in Callum’s neck, sucking sloppily at the skin there, almost feeling like he was going to break the skin when he lowered a hand and started rubbing up and down the length of Callum’s cock. It felt rough, but it was where he needed the pressure, and he leaned into both movements.

“This looks like the room of an old woman who’s three days off of death and no ones got the heart to tell her,” Ben said, once he’s stopped and moved back a little, glaring around the room. “I’m not saying I was hoping for restraints and mirrors, but the whiff of bluebells ain’t exactly a turn on.”

“Don’t exactly seem to be doing no harm,” Callum replied with a roll of his eyes, reaching down and giving Ben a quick rub through his trousers to distract his glare away from the vase of flowers.

“Well, what can I say, the prospect of a fuck in a meadow with baby lambs frolicking around the buttercups gets me harder than the thought of a cock in each hand,” Ben smirked, leaning forward and starting to unbutton the rest of Callum’s shirt that hadn’t been ripped open already. “You gonna fucking pound me now, or what?”

Callum couldn’t help but smile. “I ain’t the one that stopped so we could come upstairs,” he replied, taking the rest of his shirt off, before dipping down and pulling Ben hard against his mouth. It was funny how quickly you could learn what someone liked, what little moves you could pull out to make them fall apart. Little insignificant things like teasing someone’s lips with your tongue to build anticipation, pulling away to build the want and then ploughing and going in strong to build desire.

“If I’d have spunked on those stairs then Deakey’s wife would have tracked me down and ripped my balls off!” Ben replied, as he started to twist his finger around Callum’s belt, while undoing his own. “You gonna let me do all the work then? If you think you’re just gonna lie there while I bounce up and down on you, then think again.”

Callum tilted his head before pushing Ben’s hands away forcefully, and undoing his belt. He could feel the tremble in his hands building up, but he remained focused and pleaded with his fluttering fingers to remain solid and not portray the nerves that settled in his stomach and flickered frenetically. “Ben-“ he started, and that’s where the shake went. Into his voice.

“At this rate Deaks will be back with his bucket and spade in hand before you’ve even shoved it in,” Ben said, and he turned away a little. He was feeling it too, Callum knew. He was making out that this was just sex, just scratching an itch, but Callum knew Ben felt it too. Whatever this was that was happening between them. It was more.

Ben undid his trousers himself, pulling them down and bending over to kick them off. Callum’s cock felt a thud of arousal, wanting to just hurl him down and press into him there and then, when he saw the firmness of his bum in front of him. Callum couldn’t help but reach down and palm himself, needing to have the contact that he was crying out for.

Clearly knowing what he was doing, Ben looked up at him and smirked. “Don’t blame yourself, I’m hard to resist,” he said, dramatically sticking his bum out as he stood up, the bravado back once more.

“Shut up and get on the bed,” Callum huffed, as Ben clambered up, kneeling on the edge and beckoning Callum over with a wicked crook of his finger. He complied of course, walking over, every step feeling a shake like a jellyfish in his legs. Ben grabbed him by a belt loop, no preamble before he unzipped his trousers and pulled out Callum’s cock.

Callum’s breath caught in his throat, suffocating him as soon as Ben licked a long line up from the base and towards the head. He pulled away though, fisting his hand and twisting and stroking a little, looking up and trying to catch Callum’s gaze. He knew he couldn’t look yet though. He knew he was falling deeper and deeper and his mind was scrabbling with a way he would be able to climb out at the end.

Ben roughly pulled down the rest of Callum’s trousers and boxers, freeing his balls. He brushed his hand up and down Callum’s thigh before taking one of his balls into his mouth, sucking hard and lapping with his tongue. He moved to other, licking and drawing it in between his lips while his hand still stroked his dick with a deft hand.

Speeding up a little Ben kept moving his mouth, giving attention and kissing and rolling both balls around his tongue messily, his mouth becoming wet with the attention he was providing. Callum had to look then, seeing glistening lips and feeling the vibrations of every dirty moan that Ben was emitting from his mouth with gusto, flattening his tongue so he could slather Callum’s balls as much as he could.

It was almost too much, and Callum wanted to tell him to stop now but he also wanted to burn the image in his head. He didn’t want it to get away, he wanted to have this forever. When this was all over, he wanted this sight to remain. However, when Ben suddenly moved his head up and slid his lips down his cock, it was too much, and Callum lightly threaded his fingers in his hair to pull his face away.

It was too sinful really, as Ben lay back on his elbows on the bed, his mouth wet and crimson full lips slightly open. His eyes dark like they should be, the blackness sharp and demanding. His dick was bobbing out, begging for attention, and he clearly wanting this as much as Callum did.

There was still something about Ben’s eyes that bothered him though, because under that darkness and desire was a twinkle of something else. It was hiding, and it was being hidden, but the more and longer that Callum looked, the more it started to peer through. The more it stood out against the darkness. It was something like affection.

This wasn’t the place or time though. Neither of them could let that happen, and Callum knelt his knees on the bed and quickly used his hand to shove Ben around so he was laying on his front. The other man gave a little harrumph with the sudden movement but certainly didn’t resist, and instead shuffled his body up the bed a little, as Callum pushed further forward, lifting up Ben’s hips and moving lower.

Callum leaned in, rubbing soft circles onto Ben’s bum, before using his fingertips to massage and pinch the skin lightly there. If the gasp and the long moan that came from the mattress a little further up was anything to go by, it wasn’t unappreciated, and as small pink blushes appeared, Callum repeated the action with his hands before moving his head closer and leaning in to kiss the flesh, before sucking and kissing along each cheek, continuing the actions with his hands.

Ben was almost writhing, the tension in his legs clear that he was finding it tricky to stay still, and there were whining gasps of air as his knuckles gripped on tight to the creased sheets. Callum gave another kiss to one cheek, the dusty peach blotch appearing already, before he used his fingertips to spread Ben’s bum, moving in quickly to proud out his tongue slightly and circle around teasingly.

There was a harsh kick to his thigh, and Callum wasn’t sure if it was intentional to get him to speed up. The long groan that followed did entice Callum to move on though, closing his eyes and keeping his hands firmly on Ben’s bum to stop him from wriggling too much as he sucked firmly and dotted his tongue just a little in and out, wetting the area with saliva.

Callum could see one of Ben’s hand disappear from where it had been gripping on to the bed and moved underneath him. He started to jerk his cock which made his body a little unsteady, but Callum could feel every tug and stroke and moan that was now pleading and buzzing through Ben’s body on his tongue as he pressed further in and out of the hole, lapping and sucking with noisy slurps.

Ben’s moans were becoming deeper and longer, and Callum knew there would be only so much more that either of them could take. He sat up, wiping the spit off his mouth with the back of his hand, before using the other to press Ben’s body down so it was flatter against the bed.

Callum pushed Ben’s legs together before carefully straddling the back on his thighs. He took his own cock, giving it a stroke and moving his fingers around his balls with a sigh. “Are you just gonna take care of yourself then,” Ben said, his voice escaping in undone breaths with a laugh, though he was clearly trying to sound indifferent. “Do you want me to go? Leave you to it?”

“Shut up,” Callum laughed back affectionately, leaning forward to drop a small peck on Ben’s back. He sat back up a little and grasping his dick he slid it slowly through Ben’s arse cheeks until his balls hit against skin. He repeated the action, faster this time, spiting onto Ben’s bum to lessen the friction.

Callum took his hands off and leaned forward so he was covering Ben’s back. He placed his palms up near Ben’s head and rested on his forearms. He continued to just slide and thrust his cock between Ben’s cheeks. It was messy and slipping out of the groove more times than not, but the contact of wanking his cock against flesh made his breath heavy and the tension in his body build to a height that everything in his mind was slipping away.

He began to place kisses on the back of Ben’s neck, peppering them along the hairline gently. It felt affectionate, perhaps too intimate for this situation and their circumstance, but its what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss him.

As he kept going, thrusting a little faster and more erratically, he noticed Ben move his hand over slightly so it was next to Callum’s. He lifted his little pinkie finger up slowly and just rested it against Callum’s thumb, just as if he needed the contact. As if this were the only way they could justify holding hands.

Callum wanted to. He would have given anything to just grip Ben’s hand tight and keep holding on to it. His heart was beating out a fast encouragement, willing his body and brain to follow the message it wanted him to run with. He just couldn’t though. He’d fallen far enough.

Lifting his hand up, Callum brushed two of his fingers around Ben’s lips, giving a soft gasp when they were collected in and started to be sloppily and noisily sucked. Callum nudged them in further, getting the same rhythm as the movement of his hips. After a moment, he pulled his fingers out and sat back up again.

“You like your foreplay, don’t you?” Ben mumbled into his bed, his voice sounding wrecked with want. He had to know he couldn’t hide it now. “You’re lucky I do too.”

“I thought you liked to be dazzled,” Callum commented, as he spread Ben’s legs again, pushing a wet finger into his arse slowly before building up a rhythm, listening to the way Ben’s breaths formed to work out what he liked. He added another finger, setting a pace and a beat that seemed dysrhythmic, but was clearly making Ben keen as his toes stretched out and his muscles tightened again.

Callum removed his hand, and another whine of complaint was uttered from the end of the bed. There wasn’t much he could do about it though as he went towards the wardrobe and pulled out the bag that was placed in there when he moved in. Shuffling around in it, he got out what he needed and idly tossed it back in place, shutting the door behind him.

Carefully tearing open the packet, he rolled the condom onto his cock, Ben’s eyes piercing through the whole time. “Would you hurry up, Callum?” he complained. “Or are you doing this on purpose?”

Callum looked up and grinned, squirting some lube onto his cock, and rubbing it down the length before picking up a shirt and wiping the stickiness off his hand. “Sometimes you just have to wait for things you know, your highness,” he said, throwing the shirt back on the floor. “You can’t just always click your fingers and get what you want.”

“Was that my shirt?” Ben asked incredulously. “Fantastic, I’m gonna have to walk home in the dark with lube stains on me.”

Callum shushed him, pulling him up by his hips and settling behind him. He took his cock in his hand again, and just pushed the head towards Ben’s hole, just making contact at first before drawing back and then scooting his knees up further. He repeated the action, this time just sliding the head inside a little. It was enough though, and Callum couldn’t almost believe the volume of the groan that came out of his mouth.

“You ain’t about to come just from that are you, cause I swear to god I’ll tie weights around your ankles myself and chuck you in the Thames,” Ben said, his breath gasping and betraying how close and worked up he really was.

Callum ignored the comment, instead giving Ben a slap to his arse that emitted a moan much louder than his. He repeated the action again, bringing his palm down harder with a firm smack, immediately bending down and licking the bright pink mark that ended up there. “You ain’t gonna do anything,” Callum said with a smile as he finished kissing the flesh. He hoped it was true. He wasn’t so sure.

Nudging his body closer again, he slipped his cock back in, just to the head and then slowly slid it back out, the drag of the tight skin feeling blissful and radiating through his thighs. He pushed deeper the next time, slowly moving against the resistance as Ben stuttered out groans and pleas of desperation. He heard his name a couple of times, just quietly under Ben’s breaths and between load moans that he was sure would wake the Deacon’s neighbours. It was better than any other sound though, and Callum started to thrust forward and pushing a little more of his cock in, setting a pace on sliding in and out. He ignored Ben’s hisses of injustice the few times his cock slipped out, and instead just moved over to grip his hips a little more, pulling him back a little deeper on to his dick.

Callum punched his hips forward for a moment, quickening the pace, before stopping and pulling back gradually, almost so his cock was out. He slid back in just as achingly slow, holding Ben’s hips in place to stop their attempts to pull more of him inside and to quicken up again. He repeated the action another couple of times before drilling back in, snapping his hips as quickly as he could, the pounding shifting Ben up the bed.

There were whines and curses when Callum slowed down once more, the drag of pace sending every nerve of his body keeling and he knew that there was only so long he could last, especially with the ferocity and desire that Ben was now saying his name, mixed with every dirty word and thought under the sun.

Pushing in deep this time, so his balls were stroking flesh, he tried to contain his breathing as he rocked his hips in and out, snapping them back with all the energy his body was giving him. This wasn’t anything like he had ever felt, not those quick fumbles when he came back from the army, that seemed to be over before they really begun and left him feeling nothing but cold and empty. This was fire. And he let the flames lick and scorch his body until he was engulfed.

That tension was rising now and Callum tensed his muscles to just hold on for a few seconds longer as he erratically pounded into Ben, his fingertips pressing so tightly that they had to bruise his hips. Ben didn’t seem to notice or care as his loud litter of moans and ‘fucks’ kept being powered out into the room. He had a firm hold on the rail of the headboard, and it clattered sharply into the wall with every hard thrust.

There and then, Callum felt himself fall over the edge, his pace down to a awkward rhythm as he came, grunting along with it as his muscles contracted to the fullest before letting go and sliding along with his release. Before he let the wave just wash over him, he quickly pulled out of Ben, a hissing gasp emitting from the man, and Callum used his remaining energy to flip his hips over.

Ben’s fists and nails imbedded themselves into the cover again once he was on his back, almost ripping the cotton from its weave as Callum started to pump his cock quickly, using his other hand to stroke his fingers down Ben’s chest.

There was a grasp to his wrist, closed fingers so close to his hand, gripping on like they never wanted to let go. They wasn’t as near as Callum wanted them, but it was maybe as near as they could ever get. With another stroke and twist, Ben was coming, and it was quieter than he had been all evening, almost like his body had just accepted its fate and welcomed it without having to fight for it any longer. There were a few little sighs that escaped Ben’s lips, and then silence.

Callum took off the condom, tying it off and placing it on the side. He reached down and grabbed the shirt, rubbing his hand before bringing it up to the bed. He softly wiped Ben clean, pleased when he wasn’t being stopped. Ben just lay there, his lips escaping little audible puffs of air. There was a trail of moonlight peaking through the curtains that was landing on his face in a winding river glow. The stepping stones of his freckles seemed bolder and made Ben have an innocence on his face that had always been hidden before.

Leaning down, Callum met Ben’s lips, not wanting to let the moment pass. It was slow and sweet, and lingered just a second too long to suggest there was no feeling there. “Do I now have to walk home with spunk on my shirt?” Ben said when Callum pulled back. He wanted to trace his fingers along the moonlight, jump them from freckle to freckle and then rub softly at the crinkle at Ben’s eye where he was smiling.

“You don’t have to go,” Callum felt himself saying, and it was as if the words tumbled unannounced from his lips. “Stay.”

Ben didn’t confirm either way, but he didn’t move either. He was undecided what to do now they’d had sex, that was the purpose of being here after all. If he stayed, it suggested it wasn’t the only reason. He shuffled up a little, letting Callum lay down next to him on the bed. He was starting to feel the chill now, but he didn’t want to suggest getting under the covers. That seemed too intimate, and it was possible it would scare both of them off.

“You missed the end of the opera,” Ben said after a couple of moments of them just laying in the moonlight.

“Anything good happen in it?” Callum asked, feeling his eyes brighten when Ben started to run and rub a finger sweetly down his arm.

“No,” Ben responded sadly. “Nothing good happened. It’s probably best you stormed out like a melodramatic diva when you did.”

Callum gave a little tut at the comment, but he couldn’t get angry. His body was too sated and drowsy to care, all his muscles just awash with calmness and sleep. They lay there for a while, the only movement being the stroking of Callum’s arm and he didn’t want it to stop.

The thoughts that had managed to disappear from his brain earlier were melting their way back though. He couldn’t avoid the situation he was in, or why he was even here in the first place. There were questions ticking at mind that were itching and scratching, and he needed to find out the answers.

“Who was she?” he asked as Ben swirled his finger around the pulse point of Callum’s wrist. “That woman you was talking to. Was she the contact about the job?”

“It don’t matter who she was,” Ben replied. His eyes were looking up at the ceiling. “You don’t need to know.”

Callum could only bite his lip for a second. “I ain’t saying I need to know,” he said, his voice a little insistent. “I want to know. I just thought with us-“

That was it. That’s what caused Ben to completely tear himself out of the moment. He dropped Callum’s wrist quickly, scrabbling off the bed and picking up his trousers and pants. “You thought what? That’s you’d fuck me into oblivion and be able to get a bit of pillow talk out of me?” Ben said shaking his head as he started to put his clothes on. Callum sat up, starting to hold his hand out to explain and calm him down. “I ain’t that easy, darlin’. You think you’re the first that’s tried?”

“It ain’t like that, I was just asking!” Callum insisted. He felt exposed, still naked in the darkness. He felt seen. “I don’t see what’s the problem! We’re supposed to be on the same side, ain’t we? Why can’t I know who you met? Why can’t I know what the package is that Deaky was looking after?”

“Because you don’t need to know, Callum!” Ben replied, doing up his belt. “This ain’t a democracy. I am in charge, these are my calls and my decisions. That’s my job. You’re job is to stand there and look pretty! That was the deal of bringing you in. If I’d know you wanted to hold a fucking forum on every decision I make and bang like a couple of pussies with hearts and flowers then I wouldn’t have bothered!”

“Ben-“ he started to say. It had all disappeared. The darkness in Ben’s eyes was gone and the moonlight had flooded from his face. He’d stepped too far too soon. He knew it.

“No, Callum! This is done! Yeah? It was a mistake in the first place,” he started saying, picking up his shirt and looking at it in disgust. “I can’t fucking wear this.”

“You can take a top of mine from the wardrobe,” Callum said, but the offer just seemed to make Ben’s face darken.

“I know I fucking can, I paid for all that shit! Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do! That ain’t your place! You don’t know!” he spat out, harshly grabbing a hoodie from the hanger and pulling it on. “We’re gonna forget this ever happened. It’s best for everyone involved. You turn up at the office tomorrow and you’ll be just like anyone else, is that clear?”

Callum narrowed his eyes. He knew that it was probably the best all around, but it still hurt. His heart was still aching at the words. “Crystal.”

Without looking back, Ben left, slamming the door so harshly behind him that the vase on the dresser started to rock. Callum fell back down on the bed. Nothing was going to plan.

When Callum arrived at the headquarters with Deakey the next morning, it felt as it someone had rammed a sword into his gut. There, standing by his office door, was Ben with some man pawing all over him.

When Ben had left the following night, Callum had flopped back on the bed, kicking the covers down so he could get underneath. He just wanted to sleep, the champagne from earlier in the evening starting to make his eyes feel heavy. It was just a few minutes since Ben had gone, but those memories and how it had felt had already began to fade.

It hadn’t been until the next morning that he had woken again. The direction that the sun was beaming through the window told him it was nearer to lunch the breakfast. There was a clattering of a front door downstairs and he sat up with a start. The pair of eyes judging him weren’t what he needed to see right now.

“Don’t start, Queen,” he said with a grumble, his head feeling heavy. He collected some clothes out the wardrobe, quickly picking up Ben’s shirt from the floor that Queenie was starting to play with, shoving it in his bag in the closet. He didn’t want the reminder right now.

Once he was dressed, he went to the bathroom, barely able to look at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t want to see what he’d become. He wasn’t sure he recognised the person in front of him.

Callum could hear voices from below and he started to walk down the stairs, Queenie fluttering around his feet as he went. His tie from the evening before was hanging on the banister, a knot tied in one end of it.

“Oh here he is!” Mrs Deacon called out as he entered the kitchen. Her cheeks were rosy and she was beaming from ear to ear. He noticed that she was holding Deakey’s hand, and he felt a pang of envy. “We thought maybe you’d dropped into a coma. Not like you to sleep through breakfast!”

“I ain’t that hungry,” he replied, sitting down at the table, clunking his elbows onto the cloth. He noticed the couple looking down at him with wide eyes, clearly curious over his mood. He didn’t want to talk about it, and he wasn’t sure they would want to hear. “Did you have a nice time at the seaside?”

“Oh Callum, that fresh air was something else!” she said, breathing in deeply as if it was still around her. “I know I said I’d never leave London, but I swear we’re gonna retire down there. It does wonders for you.”

“Yeah?” he responded, and he gave her a smile. “All that walking along the prom didn’t tire you out, Deaks?”

“Well we didn’t get too far along, son,” he said, letting go of Mrs Deacon’s hand and taking a seat at the table to unroll his newspaper. “This one here kept stopping and screaming about seeing France across the Channel, even though I told her it were impossible cause of the shape of the earth.”

“I could see it!” Mrs Deacon declared firmly. “I know that’s what it were! We were only eighty miles away, I could see it in the distance! Eyes like a sparrowhawk me, Callum. I don’t miss anything.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t miss his jacket laid flat on the porch when we came in,” Deakey replied clearing his throat. “Good night?”

“Oh sorry bout that,” he remarked, completely forgetting that’s where it was hurled off him. Or perhaps just forcing himself to forget. “It won’t happen again.”

The words he had told the Deacons were more of an expectation than a promise. He’d gone in too fast and too quick and now Ben had run away. Now Ben was stroking the side of the face of some toothy grinning annoying fleck, and he felt the urge to stride over, grab him by his stupid glowing gnashers and rip them out.

“The boss is just a bit busy,” Billy said to the men waiting with a knowing nod, as if they couldn’t all see the display in front of them. “He won’t be a tick.”

The fleck threw his head back and laughed, bringing his hand up and stroking it down Ben’s chest. The only comfort that Callum could take was the fact that Ben didn’t look like he was enjoying it. He could pick up on his face, and although it seemed he was chuckling along with the man, it wasn’t real. There wasn’t a glimmer of the real smile on his face. Callum had seen it now, and he couldn’t forget it.

Finally, he seemed to be sending the fleck away, letting him lean in and kiss him on the cheek before sliding his hand down his arm. The young man walked past them all with a slight wave and Callum resisted snapping his hand off of his arm.

“Right,” Ben said, clapping his hands together. Callum’s eyes ran down his body treacherously. He couldn’t help it. They stopped at his hips and Callum wondered if the bruises had appeared there yet. They must have; small violet marks that Ben would see for days and days and be reminded of how they got there. He wanted to look and see them, and kiss them. He shouldn’t want that. “Well, we’ve finally got a date for the job. Save February fourteenth on your calendars, boys. I haven’t got all the plan together yet, but it’s coming along.”

There was a murmuring in the office. “Fourteenth of February?” Flash questioned. “Come off it, Boss, that’s Valentine’s Day. Guaranteed action!”

“Flash, you pay for most of the screws you get!” Ben exclaimed with a huff. “It’s always guaranteed with you! I’ll tell you what, you can have a few days off after and fuck your way through East London if you want! But I ain’t changing all of this just so you can get your end away on a bed of rose petals!”

“Not exactly got a good history, has it?” Ads mumbled from the corner. “Don’t seem like the luckiest of days.”

“I’m not sure we should do it on that day, Boss,” Nooky said nervously. “Ads is right. I watched this documentary on the History Channel and-“

“We’re doing it on Valentine’s Day!” Ben shouted out, placing his head in his hands. “There ain’t no debate! We ain’t the only operation involved, and the day we can get in and get out without any fuss going off is February fourteenth. If anyone got a problem with that, then you know where the door is!”

“None of us do, Boss,” Deakey’s firm voice rang out. “The date’s set. We know that. I think they’re all just a little nervous, that’s all.”

Ben nodded, settling his shoulders back down. Callum couldn’t help but look at him, and he knew he should keep focused, he knew he had questions to ask about the job that Ben wouldn’t be able to refuse in front of the other Smilers, but he just couldn’t. He just couldn’t stop looking. He didn’t want to stop.

“I know you’re all short on the details, and things are still being batted out,” Ben clarified. “That’s why we’re having a little trial run at the warehouse down on Montserrat. We give it a go, see what problems come up so we can trouble shoot before the big day. We’re gonna do it next Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!” Nookey exclaimed, standing up straight. “We can’t do it that day boss, it’s Pancake Day!”

“Oh for fucks sake Nooks!” Ben commented, throwing his hands up. “No matter what day I choose it’s wrong! Either its Pancake Day or, Mardi Gras or fucking Hug a Granny Day! We’re having a run through next Tuesday, and that’s final.”

There was a silence and Nooky went back to leaning against the desk, his arm knocking into the new vase of yellow daffodils that had been placed there. Callum felt for him. He may seemingly be a ruthless thug, but he was also upset and hurting. “Why don’t we have Pancake Day early,” Callum remarked. “We could do it Monday night at the pub? I’ll talk to Bri, I’m sure he’d let us use the kitchen.”

There wasn’t a doubt that the landlord would let them use the space. He didn’t ever seem to refuse the Smilers anything. It seemed to please Nooky as well, whose face brightened up immediately and who looked at Ben expectantly.

“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “I ain’t gonna turn down free food. That’s it, gentleman, I’ll speak to you all when I need to but if I don’t see you the biggest gang in the area is holding a sodding pancake evening on Monday! That’s really gonna strike the fear into our enemies.”

The rest of the Smilers disbanded, leaving the headquarters or going out into the back. Callum waited for a few moments, nodding to Deakey as he left, before striding across the floor, flinging open the door to Ben’s office.

Ben looked up from what he was reading with surprise, almost flinching for a second before he realised it was Callum. “You forgotten how to knock?” he said, glancing back down at the paperwork. “Close the door on your way out.”

“Who was that?” he asked, and he could hear the jealousy pour out in his tone. He didn’t care. He was hiding too much already, he couldn’t hide that.

Ben gave a long sigh, throwing the paperwork back onto his desk. “Don’t get like this,” he said, rubbing his forehead as if inconvenienced. It just made Callum angrier. He hadn’t imagined what it had felt like the night before, it had been going around his head all morning and he realised he didn’t want to stop.

“I ain’t getting like anything,” he protested, folding his arms and leaning against the door. “Just confused about how you can do that with me one night and the next day you’re all over some skanky sort you picked up from alley.”

Ben’s lips quirked, just for a second. “What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. We broke a rule but it won’t happen anymore,” he remarked, standing up and circling around the desk and perching there. “And tonight I’m gonna do that with someone else. Don’t pout, Callum. You knew what this was.”

“I’m not,” he replied petulantly with a pout.

“It can’t happen,” Ben said instantly, and Callum realised he was trying to convince himself more than anyone.

“You said that before,” he replied, cocking his head a little. This was a game again now. This was seeing which one of them would break first. “Fine. I’m sure your little bit you dragged in will be fucking great. I’m sure he’ll show you a really good time. It’ll definitely be as good as last night.”

Ben knew what he was doing, and leant back on the desk and chewed at his lip. “Shut up,” he said half heartedly. “I’m had him before you know?”

“What is this first come, first serve?” Callum commented, immediately stifling a laugh when Ben raised his eyebrows. “That ain’t what I meant. What, just because he was here before me that means he’s better with you? That you have a better time with him? You know that ain’t true. So go with him if you want, but maybe you’re his mistake and he’ll end up ditching you off for someone else.”

Ben did laugh at that point. “He knows who I am, Callum,” he reminded him. “He ain’t gonna get me on a promise and then change his mind for someone else, trust me.”

“He might,” Callum insisted. “He might have everything planned out, and shagging the boss of a gang to get himself high up and get some notoriety, and then he might meet someone. Meet someone proper, where none of the rest of that matters, only what they feel for each other. You wouldn’t get a look in.”

“He wouldn’t dare if he knew he’s end up scattered around the local tip,” Ben said, trying to exert a little authority.

“Fine then,” Callum responded. “Do that. Go and grab someone who would chuck you for someone they thought was better and see how long it lasts.”

Ben sighed, lifted up his face and looked Callum deep in the eyes. “We shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“You said that before too,” Callum replied, his voice low in volume, as if saying all these words out loud would shatter if they were too loud.

Ben shook his head again. “I can’t get distracted right now,” he stated, but his tone told Callum that he was fighting a losing battle with himself. “Not with everything that’s going on. I can’t lose focus from that. It’s too important. The Smilers are counting on me.”

“Cause you’ll try and be something different when you’re with them,” Callum said, meeting Ben’s eyes and holding them. “You’ll always be trying to impress them with who you think they want you to be. I get it. I do. But ain’t you exhausted trying to meet their expectations?”

“That’s life!” Ben exclaimed, moving off the desk and closer to Callum. “You always have to meet others’ expectations.”

“Maybe, but what if there’s someone that just appreciates you, and don’t just stick around when they need something from you or cause you’re the only one that will listen to them,” Callum said, as Ben walked nearer to him with tentative steps. “That will sit there next to you at your worst, and rejoice in you at your best. What if that person exists?”

“I’d think it were about time to wake up out of my dream and have a wank before I get going for the morning,” Ben said, the humour falling flat when it had no effort in it. “It’s an idea, Callum. It ain’t real.”

“What if they do though?” Callum insisted, and he couldn’t help himself, he reached out and tugged Ben closer to him. “Like in that opera. What if, despite everyone and everything trying to keep them apart, that person exists and you can have them.”

“That was a story, Callum,” Ben said, but he still looked down. Still reached out and ran his finger down the back of Callum’s hand. “One without a happy ending. It ain’t real. It can’t happen.”

“You said that before,” Callum whispered, taking Ben’s face in his hands and bringing him in for a kiss.

“So that’s all then?” Whitney repeated, sipping on her wine. “Just a date for the job, no other details yet?”

Callum nodded, finishing off his orange juice and placing the glass down, giving a wink to the bartender. He had received a text earlier that day from Whitney asking if they could meet. “Yeah, just a date set. Ben keeps things to himself, don’t he. Don’t seem like he trusts many of the other guys that much.”

“Well, we’ve been looking into some of those too,” Whitney remarked, downing a large gulp of Chardonnay. “We got a tip about one of the older fellas, Deacon is it? We heard he was off up to Morcombe on a supposed jolly to the seaside with his missus, but nothing came of it apparently. Probably keeping a low profile when he’s out of town. Gotta say I was a bit jealous when I heard. It’s been ages since I’ve gone up to visit my brother up north. I can’t say I fancy a stroll on the beach in this weather though!”

“When do we ever get the chance to go anywhere with our job, eh?” Callum said, starting to stand up.

Whitney nodded her agreement. “Tell me about it!” she said with a wry chuckle. “I spend all my time off on the sofa, in front of the telly with a boxset. Hardly living the high life. It’s hard to meet people in our line of work though, ain’t it? Unless you meet someone in the same job, of course.”

She smiled up at him as he did up his hoodie, and he fiddled with the knot in the tie under the intensity of her gaze. “Well, I better get off before I’m missed,” he said, and started to take a few steps back. “I’ll text you if I hear anything more, yeah?”

Callum gave her a little wave before pushing the door of the bar open and stepping out into the dark night. He walked a short distance, round the corner until he was sure no one else was watching. Hiding in the shadows, he pulled out his phone, finding the number and making the call. There was no response and Callum thrust the mobile back in his pocket in annoyance. There was no choice. This was the third time he had tried that week and there had been no answer. He would have to go round there.

It was dangerous, and as Callum started to jog, going a different route than he usually would, he was extra cautious to keep his eyes open. He examined every pedestrian, every car that seemed to turn his way and every bike that scurried by him. Carefully, he dashed down alleys and along footpaths, varying his journey and double backing on himself to make sure that anyone that was following him would stand out.

Finally, when he was certain he was alone, he sped into a sprint, running the last five minutes of the route as fast as he could. His feet pounded the pavement, and his breath was the only sound around him. This was the biggest risk he had taken so far. If anyone found out, then everything would be over.

Callum only stopped when he reached a rundown house with the windows boarded up. He glanced around before quickly stepping down the concrete stairs to a basement flat that was well hidden out of sight. He knocked on the door.

There was no answer at first and Callum was wondering if the worst had happened. There had to be a reason why his calls weren’t being answered and he was growing more concerned by the second. He was just getting ready to find something to break the lock when he heard a noise from inside and the clattering of a chain being lifted.

The door opened.

“Alright, Bruv,” Stuart said sheepishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven Playlist
> 
> Don't Stop Me Now - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgzGwKwLmgM  
> Get Down Make Love - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=inhExqvtztE  
> You Take My Breath Away - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_wLNqUz7pM


	8. Flash

Callum glared at his brother, before he harshly knocked the door from his hand, glancing around and then pushing past Stuart into the dark and dingy hallway.

“You ain’t been answering your phone!” Callum said, once the front door was closed. He looked at his brother, his eyes heavy and sullen. “I thought something had happened! You know how risky it is for me to even call at the moment!”

Stuart gave a shrug, holding his hand out defensively. “I dropped it down the carsey, didn’t I?” he protested. “Can’t get it to switch on or anything! What was I supposed to do? Walk into your work and ask the duty officer if they could pass on a message?”

Callum sighed, leaning back against the wall. “What happened to that cash I gave you?” he asked. There was a dim lightbulb that flickered overhead making Stuart seem almost ghostly. “You was supposed to use that if there was an emergency! It ain’t like you’re playing rent and bills on this place.”

“We gotta eat, ain’t we?” Stuart argued. “That don’t come cheap. And you can’t expect us to be stuck in here without nothing to do. Gotta have a bit of Netflix, don't we?”

Callum threw his hands up in the air. “Please tell me it’s not in your name!” he asked, glaring back when Stuart rolled his eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t put it past you to stroll down to NatWest and try and open an account! Not after last time.”

“I’ve been stuck in this house during the daytime for years, Callum,” Stuart complained. “One time, just one poxy time, I wanted to go out to get a bit of fresh air so I didn’t feel like a vampire.”

“Fresh air?” Callum repeated incredulously. “Stuart, you went to watch the London Marathon! Sue Barker practically stumbled over you, it was hardly incognito when every copper in the city was patrolling the area!”

“I didn’t know it was that day!” he protested. “I just went for a walk, thought it would be clearer on a Sunday and then suddenly there was barriers all around me!”

There was a clattering from the other room, and then a voice called out. “He almost got interviewed by that bird from The One Show!” it exclaimed in a cackle. “They thought he'd come in fancy dress to do the fun run!”

Callum sighed, shaking his head at Stuart one last time before pacing his way into the other room, turning towards the woman washing up at the sink. “Don’t you have a phone?” he asked her. “Couldn’t he have used yours for five minutes to let me know he weren’t dead in a landfill somewhere?”

She turned off the tap and clattered the plate down. “Don’t get all authoritative with me!” Rainie said, waggling a bubbled finger at him. “That won’t wash, sunshine! We thought about using my phone, but we decided you having my number in your contacts might raise a bit of a question if your copper buddies start looking at your call history. My occupation is hardly one you want appearing on there, is it?”

There was a part of Callum that knew she was right. It had worried him though, when he had kept trying to call Stuart that week and there had been no response. It had always worried him, for years, every time he had picked up the phone to talk to his brother, those first few rings making his heart stop for fear they would carry on and for fear they would never be answered.

These last few weeks though, that worry had got even worse, knowing he was being watched even more carefully than before. Callum had always tried to visit Stuart as little as possible, and that became even less frequent since he joined the police. Now he was undercover with The Smilers, he hadn’t wanted to visit here at all. It wouldn’t be safe with everyone suspicious of him. Today, he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t carry on not knowing what had happened with his brother.

“So, I assume there’s news then?” Stuart said, going to the fridge and taking out a peperami to eat. He offered one to Callum who shook his head in return. “You ain’t called since that first night you was in with The Smilers. You got them where you want them?”

Callum tutted. “I ain’t trying to take everyone down, Stu!” he said. “You know why I’m there.”

“I’m not saying you’re gonna fire off shots in a blaze of glory and wallop them all down at once, but you are trying to weaken them, yeah?” Stuart asked, munching down on his snack with a suspicious look towards his brother. “That is the plan we’ve been working on for so long, yeah?”

“You don’t have to tell me, Stu!” he sighed, taking a seat on the sofa. It squeaked painfully as he sat, the harsh metal springs digging into him through the threadbare material. “I’m the one that’s done all the graft for the past year, not sitting here eating through my money and popping out to sporting events!”

Stuart placed his finished wrapper in a loose bin bag nestled on the side of the kitchen. “Alright, Bruv!” he said, and came to sit next to Callum on the sofa. “I get that, I do.”

“He does, Callum,” Rainie called out from the sink. “He ain’t half worried about you. Could barely concentrate on our Bridgeton binge last night.”

“Come on then,” Stuart said, brightening up a little and slapping Callum on the leg. “What’s the news?”

Callum looked back at their expectant faces. “Well, we got a date for the job, that big warehouse one we heard was on the cards?” he started. “Valentine’s Day but there’s a dry run next Tuesday and all.”

“A dry run?” Rainie said, sitting down cross legged on the floor with a bag of crisps. “How can you practise nicking a million quids worth of gear? You gonna attach bungee ropes so it pings back?”

“I ain’t got all the details yet,” Callum said, trying to sound reassuring. “Ben keeps them close to his chest, but both the Smilers and The Hardcastles are in on it. They’re both chomping at a bit to get a slice of the pie.”

Stuart smiled “And when they get their hands on it, they’ll both have their fingers chopped off, leaving a gap for the Highways to come back fighting!”

There was a rumble in Callum’s belly. “Don’t you think it’s too soon, Stu?” he said hesitantly. “I mean, I only been there a bit over a month, I ain’t got all the information we need, I don’t know a lot about the job. It might all change and the Smilers and The Hardcastles get away scot free! And we’re hardly in any position to build the group back up again right now.”

“Not all the gang fluttered off!” Stuart insisted. “There were people that are loyal and been waiting in the wings all this time. They’ve got us this far, given us all the information we need, ain’t they? We can finally be free!”

Callum nodded reluctantly. For the longest time, Stuart had just been hiding out in this run down building, all alone with Callum as his only visitor when necessary to drop off food. His brother was a shell, alone and isolated. Hurt from what had happened, in pain and grieving and working himself into a state. Callum would come by and everything would be trashed, Stuart sitting in clothes that hadn’t been changed for days, writing things over and over again on paper. He couldn’t bear it.

Callum knew some of the money he left Stuart wasn’t just being used on essentials. And he would come in to find Stuart high on whatever he could get his hands on and a different woman, harsh and hilted, passed out on the sofa. It worried him a little, these women who may have just been doing a job but could be anyone from anywhere. Who knew what they went out into the world and whispered?

One day though, he had returned and the place was tidy. It was still old and dingy. It still had damp creeping up the wall and stunk of must and mould. It still had wonky fixtures and furniture that was older than the house it was sitting in. But it was clean, and everything had a place and it almost looked like a home. Stuart was sitting happily on a laptop on the sofa and there was a woman polishing the table. Rainie.

It had turned out that she’s come to turn a trick and never left. It had worried Callum at first. This wasn’t just some nameless women who came along and left, just thinking they were servicing some down on his luck man in filthy lodgings. Rainie wasn’t backwards about coming forwards and it was soon obvious that she knew the whole story of Stuart’s life. Callum just hoped that his brother knew hers too.

Despite his suspicions, Rainie had helped Stuart turn his life around a little, got him clean, made him have a routine and get dressed every morning, and even bought him a computer to access the outside world a little. It had got him reconnected with a few people from the Highways back inwhst he called the glory days. He swore he never gave his real name to most and the ones he did were loyal to the dot. There was nothing Callum could do to stop him, but it did leave him feeling worried about the motives of the men on the other side of the screen.

“I ain’t saying you ain’t had it hard. And I know that first night undercover didn’t end up like we planned it,” Stuart said. “They did say the gun they put there didn’t have no bullets in, I swear.”

“Yeah?” Callum said. “Well imagine my fucking surprise when his head was blown off his shoulders then! They obviously gave you bad intel. It weren’t you that called the police?”

“No!” Stuart insisted. “I told you that when you rang Christmas Eve night! As if I’d grass when I knew my baby brother would be in the shit. It weren’t any of the contacts either. They’re loyal. They wouldn’t do that! Besides, we got a plan, ain’t we? No point calling the coppers that early in the day for that scumbag. Went better than planned in some ways, if you ask me. You know what he did Callum? You were off with Mick by that point but I remember how they pulled mum and dad out the river. I remember hiding as the ambulance men took a body bag out the flat with…”

“Zara,” Callum whispered. And it was quiet in the flat all of a sudden, and he could see his brother drain of life.

“Yeah, well that little mistake did everyone a favour if you ask me,” Rainie said, breaking the silence by crunching down another crisp. “The less cunts in the world the better. I know it weren’t how you planned it Stu, but he’s gone now, ain’t he?”

“You sure it weren’t one of the Smilers that changed the gun and called the filth?” Stuart suggested.

“That’s what Ben thinks,” Callum explained. “He thinks there’s a rat in the group and if it weren’t you or me that called the police, then I’ve got to agree with him. I think there’s someone else in that group that’s trying to take him down.”

“Ben?” Rainie questioned, sucking the crumbs out of her teeth.

Both Callum and Stuart looked towards at her in confusion. “Yeah, Rain, that’s the name of the Mitchell boy that’s leading them now,” Stuart clarified. “You know that.”

Rainie gave a huff and an eye roll. “Of course I know that! I ain’t been living in the boiler, have I?” she said, before turning her gaze towards Callum with narrowed eyes. “It just seems very familiar to call him by his first name, that’s all. The way you said it...Ha! You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

Callum immediately brought his hands up to his face. “Rainie!” Stuart called out, shuffling in his seat. “You can’t say something like that! He’s a Smiler! He’s the leader of the Smilers! Callum wouldn’t do that!”

“Look at him!” Rainie squealed out, pointing to Callum who could swear the electric heater had suddenly burst into flames and was scalding his cheeks. “It’s written all over him! Good on you, darlin’! Why not have your cake and eat it and all!”

Stuart leapt off the sofa. “Callum! Will you please tell her you ain’t doing that?” he asked. There was silence in the room again, this time even more awkward than before. He knew he should deny it, but the accusation had taken him by surprise and now too much time has passed. Stuart’s eyes widened and he started to pace the room. “You ain’t, have you? Why would you do that?”

“Well why wouldn’t he?” Rainie exclaimed, laughing away. “Look at him, strolling in there looking like that when it’s common knowledge that Mitchell likes to fuck any bit of dick that twitches his way.”

“That don’t mean he has to…twitch back though, does it?” Stuart whined. “That’s not what I meant when I said get close to Mitchell!”

“Oh, he’s got up close and very personal,” Rainie said falling on her back and laughing. “Was it a good fuck?”

“Rainie!” Stuart shouted, pacing into the kitchen and banging his hands on the sink causing the plates on the draining board to rattle. “Do you mind? I’ve just eaten! I don’t want to bring it back up.”

“Oh stop being such a prude!” she said. “It weren’t as if we met at the school disco was it? He’s got a lot of pressure on at the minute, ain’t you darlin’? He needs a bit of stress relief.”

Stuart fiddled with a tea towel. “But can’t he go and find someone else to relieve it with,” he moaned. “With a Mitchell. A Smiler. Unless you’re doing it cause you think you have to? Doing it to shaft to the enemy?”

“He’s shafting the enemy all right, but it ain’t cause he has to!” Rainie said, coughing out another cackle. “It were obvious when he was following about for all those months. He’d come back and get a little pink in his cheeks when he talked about him. He’s doing it because he likes it.”

“Right can we stop talking about this, please?” Callum said, standing up. “It don’t matter anyhow. I’m still doing what I’m there to do, everything is on track. I know what I’m doing!”

Stuart nodded. “Alright. Ok, but just be careful, yeah?” he said, as he came over to pull Callum into a hug when he stood up from the sofa. “Those Mitchells were always bad news.”

Callum nodded, clapping his brother on the arm and heading out the door. He glanced at his watch, hoping that he could explain to the Deacons why he was so long on his run, if they were still awake when he returned.

“Oi, Juliet,” Rainie hissed, pulling the door to the lounge closed. She walked closer, quickly glancing behind her to check Stuart hadn’t followed her out. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I told you, I’m working towards the plan,” he responded, suddenly finding the dirty wallpaper fascinating.

Rainie took hold of him by the wrist and tightened her hand. “That ain’t what I meant and you know it!” she whispered harshly. “You and the Mitchell boy. Callum, it won’t end well. A boy like that who'd kill your brother given half a chance!”

Shrugging, he tried to pull his arm away but he she had a tight grip. “What? It’s like you said, it’s just a bit of fun to relive stress.”

“Pull the other one darlin’! I weren’t dropped off by the milkman! It’s clear as day that you’re schlong over nuts smitten by him! It won’t work out,” she said, her eyes darting back and forth like she was trying to get it through to him. “Whatever foolish love story you got in your head, it’s just gonna fall away to reveal the dirty truth at some point.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Callum said, pulling his wrist away. “I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do.”

“Well, I hope that’s true,” Rainie said, folding her arms. “Because if you take your eye off the ball for one second, it’s gonna take us all down. Just wait and see.”

“What the fuck is a truffle?” Flash said, holding it up and glaring at it like it had done him some harm. “Looks like someone’s nuts have shrivelled up and been hacked off.”

Callum laughed along with the rest of them, but the accuracy that Flash had made the comparison with suggested that it was born from experience.

“Don’t get your greasy hands all over it!” Nooky responded, grabbing the item out of his friend’s hands and putting it back on the table. “It’s proper expensive that. I’m impressed that Bri’s got some in.”

When he had gone into the pub to ask Bri if they could have the place to throw a pancake evening, he wasn’t surprised when the agreeable landlord had complied. He seemed to respond the Smilers every whim. He even offered to get one of the kitchen boys to make the pancakes for them. Callum had been expecting a few crepes with some sugar, but what was laid out was a buffet or feast suitable for a last supper. There was every shape and size of pancake available under a warming station and a host of toppings. It was lavish, and indulgent, and nothing like he wanted it to be.

Ben didn’t seem that enthusiastic either, sitting back in the booth with his legs up on the stool. He had a bowl of crisps in front of him that he was picking at. He was quiet, and Callum could tell he was nervous, though his face was trying to keep that covered. The run through of the job tomorrow was clearly on his mind.

“You can’t beat a bit of chocolate fudge sauce and ice cream on a pancake,” Flash said, drowning his plate in the items. “The richer the better. If you ain’t gonna indulge and go the whole hog then what’s the point? Life’s worth living?”

“Yeah, well I’d prefer mine with a nice bit of gouda, confit shallots and shaved white truffle,” Nookey said finishing off his plate. “This goes for about a hundred pound, it’s not for an unrefined palette.”

“We watch a few episodes of Masterchef together while waiting for some toss rag to wake up from his beating and you turn into Delia fucking Smith!” Flash said grabbing the truffle back off Nooky and giving it a long sniff. “It smells like dirt! It’s just a fucking fancy mushroom! Go down Tesco you can get a pack of button ones for less than a quid.”

“What about you, Boss?” Nooky asked. “What do you like spread on your pancake?”

“I like a bit of lemon and sugar, me,” Ben said. “Gotta bit of a thing for something sweet but sharp. Right, we need to talk about tomorrow before you lot of pass out from overeating.”

They all seemed to lean in a little closer, though there was no one but The Smilers in the bar. That didn’t mean anything though. Not when there was a rat in the group. It could be one of the men here, tucking in to their pancakes, laughing and joking like they didn’t have a care in the world. It would be someone close, it had to be.

Ben got up out of his seat, licking the salt off his fingers before passing round the table. He caught Callum’s eye, just briefly, but it didn’t matter how short. It still shot through a shaking heart, and produced breath that trembled as it quickened and lightened any doubt in his head. It always felt like the first time he saw him.

“We’ll meet up at the headquarters at five. Bill, Budd, you carry on as normal with the rest of the office boys. Anyone calls or asks for any of us then we’re out the back having a private birthday party. That’s the story. Anyone comes in and asks, then we’re out the back having a party and it’ll have to wait till morning. We’re all gonna be each other’s alibis here, boys. Any questions so far?” he said, perching on a stool by the bar.

Nooky raised his hand. “Whose birthday is it?” he asked when Ben nodded towards him.

“It’s a cover Nook,” Ads said, adjusting his sunglasses. “It ain’t no one’s birthday.”

“Well, say something happens and I get asked whose birthday it is, what do I say?” Nooky asked, cutting up his pancake with a shrug. “Can’t say I don’t know, can I? They won’t believe that.”

“They would if they fucking met you!” Flash said, throwing a beermat at him. “If you get caught then the last thing you gotta worry about is worrying how many candles were on the fucking cake! Jesus! Fuck, say it’s mine! I could do with a few presents thrown my way.”

That seemed to satisfy Nooky who went back to eating. “They’ll be two vans, same as on the actual night. We’re doing it the same way, only not the actual tricky bit of shifting all the gear out and trying to get it out and away before anyone cottons on. This time it’s simple; we go through the gate, park the vans, get out and check we can get into the warehouse.”

“It’ll also give us a good opportunity to check out the area, any blind spots, where the cameras are, any pot holes that could puncture a tire,” Deakey explained. He had been quietly sitting and eating a ham and cheese crepe. Callum found it hard to read him. In a way, he didn’t seem nervous at all, and he supposed that was to be expected. He was the most experienced of all of them. At the same time though, the serenity was disconcerting. He seemed just abandoned to whatever fate brought them. “So everyone needs to keep their eyes peeled. There’s gonna be me, Callum and the boss in the first van. Ads, you’re driving the second van with Nook and Flash.”

“How we gonna get the vans through the gate, Boss?” Ads asked. “Those warehouses around Monserrat aren’t open plan. They’ve all been fenced up with security cates on. Electronic locks monitored on the inside.”

“Our security guard on the inside lets in a delivery every night at the same time,” Ben said. “Nothing worth much apparently, milk and bread for the mess room or something like that, so no one’s gonna give a look in to it. That van comes out when the gates are open and we drive in.”

“Ain’t someone gonna notice us though, Boss?” Flash asked with his mouth full of sauce and ice cream. “Won’t the grafters and the coppers be around there like shit on a pig’s snout?”

“It’s skeleton staff only by the time we get there,” Ben commented, glancing towards Deakey. “And even then, there’s a match on that night; the guys take it in turn to be the one keeping an eye on the monitors while the rest go watch in the mess. It’ll just be our fella watching who’s coming and going at that time. We’ll be in and out and no one else will even know.”

“We taking any precautions, Boss?” Flash asked, his voice lowered slightly.

Ben seemed to glance around a little. “Well, more than you do on any given evening,” he responded with a small smile that hid his nerves. “Not tomorrow. We won’t need it. If we’re caught in there then we’ll just say we took a wrong turning. We won’t have liberated anything, and I ain’t getting sniffed around cause we got pieces in the van.”

“Right, well I think that covers everything,” said Deakey, placing his knife and fork back down with a rattle. “Let’s get off, shall we lads? It’s a busy day tomorrow and we all need to be fresh and have our wits about us.”

There was a scraping of chairs and a rumble of conversation as they all started to get their coats on and one by one bid their farewell and thanks to the landlord and headed out the door. “Boss?” Flash said, as Callum started to help Bri to clear the plates away into the hatch that went through to the kitchen. “I’ve got an appointment tomorrow afternoon, but I’ll be back in time for the job, I swear. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

Ben sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alright, fine.” He said waving his hand away. “If you really need to I suppose, they ain’t nothing I can do about it. Just make sure you’re back in time, Flash. We can’t be hanging about cause you got on the number nine bus by mistake.”

“Cheers, Boss,” he said, clapping Ben on the back. “I’ll be there, you know you can always trust me.”

It left just Ben, Callum and Deakey in the pub again, the clattering of clearing plates filling the silence. “Deaks, pop down to the office for me, would you?” Ben said, still sitting and leaning on the bar. “There’s some paperwork on my desk that needs grabbing.”

Deakey merely nodded, pausing for a second before leaving the pub, a bitter breeze drifting through in the draft. “Are you nervous?” Ben asked, and Callum knew he wanted to talk. “You don’t look it.”

Callum put down the last few plates and walked over to where Ben sat. “I’m always nervous when I’m round you,” he said, shuffling forward a little so he was standing in between Ben’s legs.

“Liar,” Ben smirked, reaching out and pulling him closer. “I can always tell when you lie.”

Callum reached up a hand and softly brushed it against Ben’s cheek. “Thought you said we had to stop doing this so much?” he asked. “Thought you didn’t want to get distracted.”

“Well, it wouldn’t do to have the boss show favouritism so I was never gonna get you to bend me over the maple syrup in front of them all,” Ben replied. He leaned in just brushing his lips over Callum’s neck so it tickled and started to run through his quickened blood. “They can’t know, we’ve got to be careful.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Callum said, smiling into the kisses that Ben was now delicately pressing against his skin. They turned firmer as Ben’s lips sucked on points of his neck, the feeling shooting through his body when he got just the right spot.

Callum gripped his hair, threading his fingers through so he could lift Ben's face and lean down into it. He quickly nipped at Ben’s lip, mirroring the movement that had been on his neck, before planting another kiss against his lips, noses bumping a little as he darted his tongue out a little while he scraped his fingers roughly into Ben’s scalp as he moaned. His other hand found Ben’s, matching them palm to palm.

There was a clearing of a throat behind them and Callum pulled back. He didn’t think Ben had heard it though, because his eyelids were heavy and lips still parting and begging to be kissed again. “I’ll just stick the papers down here then, Boss,” Deakey said, and the wallop of the folder hitting the table made Ben jump back. “Come on, Callum. We’re going.”

“I was gonna stay for a little while actually,” Callum said, his hand colder now Ben’s had left. “I can walk back-“

“It’s freezing out there, they’re forecasting snow. You can’t walk back in that,” Deakey said, his voice insistent. “Besides we got an important day tomorrow, and we all need a good night’s sleep. Mary won’t be happy if you stomp in at all hours. Two minutes then I want you in the car.”

The door clattered on his way out and they both looked on as it rattled the window frames. Callum quirked an apologetic lip towards Ben, though it wasn’t as if it were his place. It wasn’t like when he was a kid and had to follow his dad around as he left a wake of destruction and fury in his wake. He felt that his face was always apologetic, always apologising for other people and who he was. They wouldn’t scowl or spit at the feet of Jonno, but they did him. They did him.

Deakey was hardly Callum’s father, but he almost felt like it, being summoned to the car after being caught kissing the local bad boy before he was being taken home to be sent to his room and grounded. It was ridiculous though, Deaks worked for Ben. He had to do whatever Ben told him to do, and he may not like everything but he had to accepts it.

Still, he didn’t want to make any one suspicious or have any of them question his motives. Callum turned away to head out the door when an arm pulled him back.

He looked at Ben questioningly as he was clearly wanting to talk, words peaking out from his lips to check they were safe. “Do you trust me?” he asked, looking Callum square in the eye to let him know he was serious.

Callum shuffled his feet a little, aware of the grip on his wrist. It wasn’t going to let go. No matter his answer, Ben wasn’t about to let go now. “Yeah. Yeah, course,” he replied with a shrug, looking towards the bar and focusing his eyes on a green bottle as his feet slid back a little.

“Callum,” Ben replied, and he was still looking intently waiting until he believed his answer. “Look at me. Do you trust me?”

He had no choice this time, he had to comply, and he looked into Ben’s eyes knowing that he could fool anyone in a lie. And perhaps that’s where the reluctance came in. Maybe he just didn’t want to lie this time. “Yes, Ben,” he said. “Of course I trust you.”

Ben eyes darted a few more times over his face, as though trying to decide whether to accept the answer. He nodded once. “Okay,” he said in almost a whisper. It was the belief in his face, the acceptance that made Callum question himself. Was he lying or wasn’t he?

There must have been a fuse that lit under the confusion in his mind, and he knew the sensible thing would be to let the conversation go. He couldn’t though, something was causing him to pick at it. “Do you trust me?” he asked, the words bursting their way out. It shouldn’t matter, Callum told himself. He shouldn’t need to hear it. As long as he was convincing enough to get the job done, it shouldn’t matter if he had Ben’s full trust or not.

The hand was still on his wrist, on his pulse point he realised, and he wanted to believe it was just affectionate. A way to be close to the blood pumping around Callum’s veins, a way to feel how hard his heart beat was with the crimson rose red that poured out into his body faster when Ben was around. There was another answer though. It could just be that Ben couldn’t read his face, so he was trying a different method of getting the truth. Callum tried to still the rebellious blood that just pounded with the rage of a river rapid around his body. It didn’t work.

Ben still wasn’t answering, and Callum wondered if this was the moment he was found out. Perhaps he had been followed the other day to see Whitney, his mind had been worried about Stuart so it was possible he hadn’t taken the possible precautions that he usually did. Perhaps this would be the moment that Ben would pull a knife out and stab it through his heart.

He didn’t though, instead he let go of Callum’s wrist and pulled and tugged at the tie of his hoodie instead. He threaded his fingers up and down it slowly before nimbly tying a knot into it. “I do,” he whispered, and he looked up. Callum believed him. He knew he shouldn’t. But he wanted to and that was all that seemed to matter right then.

“I should probably get going before Deakey has a coronary and starts waking up half the street by beeping the horn,” Callum said with a small laugh. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay right there. Ben parted from him though, his body moving away from Callum, and his heart sank in sorrow at the thought of going.

There wasn’t a choice though, that was clear, and Ben helped him by going around the side of the bar and pouring himself a drink. Callum took one last look, there was no parting goodbye, and went out into the cold night.

Under the harsh light of a lamppost, Deakey sat in the car, the engine running furiously. It was unusual, Callum thought, for the man to be sitting in the brightest place in the street, almost as if he were under a spotlight. That wasn’t the Smilers style, to sit out and be noticed and it certainly wasn’t Deaks.

Callum was going to make a joke out of it when he got in the car, tell him he was getting complacent in his old age, but the look on the man’s face made him hush. It was almost fierce, hands gripped on the steering wheel so that his knuckles were foam white.

The car clattered off down the street, the silence full inside the vehicle. The radio was playing at such a low volume that it was barely worth having it on, just a voice buzzing out in an unpredictable hum. It had become too late to say anything now, the awkwardness of the quiet too powerful and too long for any chat to sound natural.

When they arrived home, Deakey turned off the engine, got out of the car and headed to the door. Callum could feel his frustration build the longer he sat still, and took a few deep breaths as Deaks unlocked the door. It seemed that this entire week people were trying to tell him his own mind, to tell him how he should do things, of what to do and how to do it. He had survived this long and survived so much of it by himself, that he didn’t need hecklers in the final hour.

Callum clunked open the door and stomped up the path, feeling every shock through his body from the force of his feet on the concrete. As soon as he was inside, he carried on walking into the kitchen. “Is it that you think I ain’t good enough?”

Deakey looked round from where he was filling the kettle up at the sink, giving a sigh and a roll of his eyes when he turned to see the expression on Callum’s face. Mrs Deacon was sitting at the table, and she looked up in surprise at the sudden raised voice in the small room, tapping the pen she was using to make a shopping list and going wide eyed under her face mask. “What’s all this noise?” she asked. “Betty from next door was already complaining about a banging against the upstairs wall last week, if she gets woken up from her sleep again, she’ll be round here shaking her broom.”

Mrs Deacon adjusted a loose roller in her hair, and pulled her dressing gown a little tighter around her, satisfied she had made her point. Callum wasn’t interested though. He didn’t care at that moment what she thought, or some old woman from next door thought. He just felt like picking up the vase of tulips from the table, and throwing them at the wall, letting their golden petals explode around him.

“That’s it, ain’t it?” Callum repeated. “He’s the leader of the biggest gang in East London and you just think of me as some stray on the doorstep who ain’t fit to lick his boots.”

“It ain’t his boots that you were on your way to licking, son, was it?” Deakey said, carrying on as normal and switching the kettle on.

“Who’s licking what now?” Mrs Deacon said with a tut. “I wish you boys would be quiet. You’ll both soon be moaning at me if I forget to put bacon down!”

“Callum’s taken a shine to the Boss,” Deaks said, sitting down as the buzz of the kettle started to fill the room.

Mary Deacon looked up from her pad, eyebrows raised. “Oh, well I suppose it was to be expected.” Both men turned to her, looking in confusion at her response. “What? Callum’s a good looking boy, and they’re both young men, Fred! You remember what it was like when you were that young?”

“I remember too well,” he responded pointedly as the kettle began to bubble. “That’s just it. You really think it’s a good idea for them to get involved?”

Mrs Deacon gave a little shrug. “Well you know what that Ben’s like,” she said, noting down another item on her list. “Got someone new on the go every week. No offence, dear.”

Callum felt a shove at his heart, a bully thought that just elbowed it. He shook it away. “It ain’t nothing serious,” he said. “Just a bit of fun.”

“See?” Mary said, pointing her pen towards Deakey. “Just let them be, Fred. It won’t hurt anyone. Callum says it’s not serious, I mean the other week Ben was with that other young boy. You know who I mean? All teeth and smiles and bouncing up trying to impress like a schnauzer.”

The Fleck. That’s who she was talking about. The little fucker who needed his teeth smashed in so they could be used to stab him in the eyes.

“He was still about the other day, that one,” Deakey said as steam started to enter the room, wafting over from the spout. “Clearly got something to stick around for.”

“Oh, he’s all show, that boy,” Mary said, chewing on her pen with thought. “He’s Rosaline’s son, and she was always the same. Brass as knockers, all front and making sure everyone noticed her. She were never one to fade into the background or hide her light under a bushel. She didn’t care whose light she were taking away as long as she were front and centre stage being adored. You know Rosaline? Used to work part time at the doctors?”

“Well, he’s clearly not one to give up on the Boss’ affections,” Deakey said, as the kettle clicked and he walked over to the counter to make his tea. Callum knew what he was doing, knew he was trying to get him to back away, but it still hurt. Every word still stung and cut like a thorn scraping itself out. “He’s not gonna stop trying. It’s easy to see how the Boss will be tempted back.”

“Don’t you listen to him, Callum!” Mrs Deacon remarked, giving Deaks a swipe of the arm as he walked past, almost spilling his tea. “All mouth and no trousers that boy is, just like his mother. You got more going for you in your little finger than that one has in his whole body. You just ain’t flash about it, is all. Any fella worth his salt will soon see through that little tosser’s act.”

“Mare!” Deakey said, almost spluttering on his tea.

Mrs Deacon clucked his way. “It’s true Fred! You know how I feel about, Ben, but even he’s not crazy enough to pick that little gobshite over our Callum. Just cause he don’t show off as much, don’t mean that you can’t see his worth if you look close enough.”

Deakey shook his head as he looked at her, talking with his eyes. It was language that Callum couldn’t understand, one that no one could apart from the two people in front of him. “And you don’t see the problem with those two falling for one another?” he asked.

“Whether there’s a problem or not don’t make a difference,” she said, reaching out and patting his hand. “If that’s what’s happened, then that’s what’s happened. You can’t fight those things. It only serves to tighten them. Right, off you go to bed, Callum. You know what you’re like when you ain’t had enough sleep. Like a bear with a sore head in the morning. Go on, now! And take Queenie with you, she could do with a cuddle.”

The hissing cat looked like she wanted anything but to be disturbed as Mrs Deacon grabbed her from her comfortable snooze spot on the dining chair and thrust her, legs dangling, into Callum’s arms. He took her though, sensing there was to be a conversation in the kitchen that he wasn’t to be privy to, and walked towards the stairs.

Callum stepped slowly up them, each one creaking as he went, announcing his departure. When he reached the top, he crouched down, close to the banister, dodging a paw aimed at his face and listened.

“This won’t end well, Mare,” he heard Deakey say in hushed tones. “You know it won’t. I don’t want him getting hurt.”

“Things always end, darlin’” Callum heard Mrs Deacon respond. “There always has to be a choice, you know that. No one can ever know the right one till it’s been made.”

With that, the door was shut, blocking out the rest of the conversation. There was still a sting going through Callum’s body and it wasn’t just from the swipe of Queenie’s claw against his cheek.

“If they’ve stopped off at a drive in to pick up a burger, I’ll fucking kill them!”

Ben rubbed his palms against his thighs again, craning his neck out of the window as if that would get the other van there quicker.

Everyone had turned up as requested at the headquarters that evening, the office seeming busier than usual and certainly for that time in the night. There was an edge in the air on all accounts, and though this was just a dry run of the real job, there was clearly nerves in attendance in bundles.

Ben had given him a smile, and a quick rub of his arm out of sight of anyone else. There couldn’t be anything further when there were so many Smilers around. Deakey may know about them, or whatever it was that was going on between them, but Callum understood that Ben didn’t want that spread around to anyone else.

They had all climbed in to the vans; him, Ben and Deakey into the first and Ads, Nooky and Flash following in behind. It hadn’t taken them long to get to the Monserrat estate where the warehouse resided, the conversation in Callum’s van muted and kept to the details with the job. They had parked just down the road, in sight of the gate as they waited for the rest of their party to arrive.

They had been sitting there for five minutes now and Ben was getting restless. Callum wanted nothing more than to reach out a hand and rub it against his arm to calm him and let him know he was there. With Deakey sitting between them, arms firmly folded, it may not have been the best idea.

“There was those road works down by the bank,” Deakey offered. “We managed to get through quick enough, but its possible they had to stop for them. Could have added a good few minutes to their journey?”

Ben didn’t seem placated by that though. “Callum, try the radio again,” he said, pointing towards the item. “I told them to turn it on as soon as they got in the fucking van! Why does no one listen? That delivery van will be out of those gates in a few minutes and we’ll be screwed if we both ain’t here.”

“This is why we’re doing this though, Boss,” Deakey said, and he gave Ben a pat on the arm. “So that any of these issues get sorted out now rather than us waddling around with our trousers around our ankles next time.”

“Zero Zero Two, state your location,” Callum called through the radio. They had all agreed not to bring their phones, just incase they got caught, so this was their only means of contact. “Zero Zero Two, this is Zero Zero One, please state your location.”

There was just a crackle of static for a moment, before Flash’s voice started to rustle through. “Fuck me, those road works were hell to get through, “ he called through. “We’re just pulling round the corner now.”

Ben almost craned his neck off, sticking his head out the window, as if the view through the windscreen didn’t suffice. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the van came teaming around the corner and chugged close to them on the opposite side of the street. Ads was behind the wheel, looking as calm as even with his sunglasses covering most of his expression. “Look, you can see the delivery starting to make its way out and towards the gate,” Ben said, pointing towards the warehouse enclosure. “Callum, tell those lazy arseholes to be ready.”

Callum picked up the radio. “Zero Zero Two, be on the lookout, the vehicle is departing and we need to be ready for the operation to proceed.”

There was another moment of static, before Nooky's voice rang through. “What?” he said, before Flash’s voice came through at a distance. “Will you talk fucking English, Callum? This ain’t the fucking Sweeney!”

Ben leaned over and grabbed the radio out of his hand harshly. “Will you tossers just get the fuck ready!” he called through. “The van’s on its way out and the gate’s just about to open!”

Sure enough, the gate slowly slid open, clattering and banging its way into the wall. There was the light sound of an engine making its way towards it, and soon a small black van gently made its way out.

No sooner had the other vehicle passed the barrier, than Ben roared the van towards the gate. Callum had the feeling that he was still controlling the speed though, making sure it wasn’t drawing too much attention in case anyone was watching.

They passed through the open gate, just as it started to vacate its compartment on the wall, very slowly sliding their way. It wasn’t far to go once in the compound, just a thirty metre drive until Ben pulled the van up in front of the building. He quickly made his way out, and Callum could see the other group pull up behind them, thankfully making it through the gate in time.

As soon as he got out, Ben thrust a piece of paper into his hand and nodded towards the building. “Get that door open!” he ordered, before going up to check on the others in the second van.

Callum took the paper and squinted at the building until he saw a keypad on the door. He checked the paper, written in Ben’s scrawl. It contained a code :WSRAJ3187. Callum typed it in carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when the keypad beeped back at him and a click signalled the door released.

“All right mate?” Flash said, coming over and slinging an arm around him. “It work alright? Well thank fuck for that at least.”

Callum grinned back at him, pleased he at least did this right as the man slapped him on the shoulder. He looked all around the area by the keypad and the door, seeing where the security cameras were. He knew he was being watched. He just didn’t know by who.

“Right, let’s take a gander in and that’s it,” Deakey said, as the rest of the men strolled towards the unlocked door. “We won’t outstay our welcome now, not when there’s nothing to risk for it.”

They stepped into the warehouse. It was smaller than Callum expected but it had shelves and shelves that were all full up. This was clearly an Aladdin’s cave, the golden grail, and he could sense Ben’s eyes lighting up next to him.

“Can’t we just take a few bits now, Boss?” Nooky asked, his face looking around open mouthed in wonder. “We’re here anyway, might as well make the most of it.”

“We ain’t taking a fucking penny,” Ben said, holding his hand out in warning. “Anyone notices that a few things are missing, then questions will be asked and we won’t be able to come back on Valentine’s. We wait, we be patient and then we get the reward. Right, come on you lot. Let’s get out of here.”

They all made their way back to the door, filtering out. Callum was last out, shutting it firmly with a click and then not helping himself but to look for the security cameras again. Ben gave him a nod, a signal to join him back in the van, as the other group followed behind.

As the van approached the gate, a sensor caused it to open. There was a keypad next to the exit, for if the sensor was turned off, but the gate started to slide away on its own. “Well, that was alright?” Ben said, nodding to them both hopefully, as he turned out of the enclosure and back on to the road. “Better than I thought.”

As he was making his way down the road though, he started to turn the van around. It was a quiet road, only used for access to the estate so no one was around to get in the way. “Where are they?” Deakey asked, realising why they’d made the turn. “They haven’t come out yet.”

Ben was tapping frantically at the wheel. “Where the fuck are they?” he said, his voice broken with breaths. “They should have been just behind us.”

Callum lifted the radio up to contact them, but a few seconds later the other van pulled out of the gate and parked just in front of it.

“Zero Zero Two, just checking that everything is ok,” he called through the radio.

Nooky’s voice rattled back through the static. “Uh, we’re not sure. Flash thinks he saw something left by the door to the warehouse. Something on the ground,” he replied. There was a muffled voice in the background. “He says it looks like a phone, but none of us have got them have we, so it can’t be ours.”

It was instinctive really, as soon as Nooky had said that, Callum reached towards his jacket pocket and patted it. The move wasn’t missed. “Callum, you didn’t?” Ben said, his eyes wide and jaw set.

He thought no one would find out. It was hidden and switched off in his pocket. They had been told not to bring them, but where could Callum leave it so it was safe and wouldn’t be looked at? The safest place seemed to be to keep in on him. Now though, his zip pocket was open and his phone had fallen out into a place they were trespassing in. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning towards Ben. “I just forgot it was in there.”

“Shit!” Ben said, grabbing the radio from Callum’s hand. “You there?” he said into the speaker. “Flash ain’t wrong. It’s Callum’s phone, he forgot to take it out his pocket.”

There was silence for a moment, and Callum could feel Deakey sigh next to him in disappointment. “Give me a minute, Boss,” Flash’s voice came through the radio. “I’ll climb over the fence and see if I can get it.”

Ben smacked the radio on the dashboard and leaned his arms on the wheel, watching as Flash jumped out of the van. He looked up and around, clearly deciding where to best get over the fence. “I’m gonna go help him out, Boss,” Deakey said, nudging Callum with an elbow to signal to let him out. “He ain’t gonna get over there otherwise.”

Callum opened up the door, jumped out to let Deakey pass. He quickly got back in and shuffled along the seat next to Ben as they both watched the older man jog towards the compound gate.

“Ben,” Callum started to say, feeling he needed to say something, even if he couldn’t offer up a truthful explanation.

“We ain’t discussing it now,” Ben said, his eyes fixed on the fence as Deakey boosted Flash up so he could get a grip at the top of the gate. He somehow managed to hook on, before clawing his way up the final few feet and pulling his legs over the top. With a slight stumble, Flash dropped over the other side, lifting his arms high in the air in celebration. “Twat! Just get the phone.”

They saw Flash run off towards the warehouse, before a crackle started to come over the radio. “Boss, you hear that?” Nooky asked.

Ben looked towards Callum; he just shrugged in return, but opened the door up just a crack, pointing his ear towards the air. It took a moment, but he heard it. “Sirens.”

“Fuck it!” Ben said, quickly reaching towards the radio, and Callum could see his fingers almost tremble. “Nooks, it’s the filth. Let Deakey know!”

Callum watched, gulping back the tension, as Nooky opened the van door and shouted out to Deakey. By that point, Flash was back by the gate, the phone held clearly in his hand. The panic flew through Callum even further. He hadn’t removed Stuart’s number from there, and he couldn’t know if Whitney had sent him a message. Flash could look at it at any moment and see something that would raise some serious questions.

Over at the gate, he could see the two men in conversation. Whatever Deakey was saying, Flash seemed reluctant, but eventually he passed the phone through the gate to the waiting hand. The sirens were getting louder now, and Ben revved up the engine, pulling out into the road. They made their way past the gate, and Callum could see what was happening. Deakey jumped in the second van, leaving Flash behind the gate. They were going without him.

As they rounded the corner, Callum took a glimpse down the road, just seeing a police car pull into view as the wailing sirens grew louder. They had just got out of sight in time, but the police would pick up Flash, and ask questions.

Ben was speeding down the road, and Callum knew it has nothing to do with getting away. They weren’t being followed, and he didn’t think the police had seen them. They had fake plates, so even if an eagle eyed copper had caught a look, they wouldn’t be able to be traced. They, at least, had got away, but Callum couldn’t help but think of his phone in Deakey’s hands in the other van.

They drove for about five minutes, neither of them saying a word. The other van had long since disappeared into the background behind them, probably heading back to the office. Ben just seemed to be driving though, seemed to want the energy that was coursing off him to be burnt out in the tyres.

They turned off the road once the buildings and bustle of the busy streets were behind them. A little side turning, and a street that led to nowhere where the darkness was heightened by the silence.

Ben turned off the engine. “Get out,” he ordered, before opening the door and stepping out into the night, slamming it behind him.

Callum sat for a few seconds. There was no one else around here. No one would find a body if it were dropped here, at least not until it was unrecognisable. He didn’t want to die, not here, not like this. He wished he'd never been born into this life. He wished he were free of it, but not like this. It was almost the dead of night, and his pulse was banging against his ears. He glanced over. The keys were still in the ignition. That was deliberate. He knew why they were here.

Getting out, he closed the door and paced up to where Ben was leaning against the van. Callum could see the harsh rise and fall of his chest, as the adrenaline from the job was powering through him. The rest of Ben's body was still, and that just meant all that energy was building up.

Callum didn’t even bother to stop, didn’t even stutter in his movements as he grabbed Ben’s head and pulled it towards his lips. The response was instant, and now Ben was no longer still as his hand scrabbled at Callum’s jacket, somehow managing to undo it so his hands could get nearer skin. So one more layer was stripped away between them. He felt Ben’s fingertips graze around his chest, scratching and rubbing at a nipple through the thin material of his top. Callum didn’t stop kissing him, deepening the movement and swiping their tongues together, the action causing him to harden with every brush.

Callum dropped his own hands down, puling away and using his palm to push Ben back against the side of the van. He did so willingly, his mouth open in expectation as soft huffed moans came out and his hands hung loosely beside his side for a moment. They didn’t still for long though and as soon as Callum reached out and palmed Ben through his trousers, tracing his fingertips up and down the length and moulding the stiff shape there, he leaned up and started biting at Callum’s necks so slightly and grazing his teeth up and down his pulse point, licking a line there before sucking the skin noisily.

Quickly going for Ben’s belt, once he had it open he used one hand to keep Ben’s head in place, pausing for just a second. The hand groping at his arse overwhelmed him for just a moment, tightly squeezing with eagerness and then pressing and rocking the fingertips into the crease of his jeans, separating his cheeks and the sensation making Callum to grunt out his approval. It was only causing him to breathe faster, but it wasn’t enough either; the denim barrier meaning the prods only made it so far.

Callum roughly pulled at Ben’s jeans with one hand, reaching in and pulling out his cock, noticing the little hiss at his neck as skin and air hit suddenly. Ben lowered his lips, quickly undoing Callum’s own jeans. He was already hard enough, but Ben lowered himself just briefly, sucking loudly on the head of his dick for a few seconds.

Ben stood up straight again letting go of Callum’s cock, and leaning back on the van with a grin. He was flushed, and his lips were glistening and there was a power in his eyes that told Callum that this was exciting him. Not just what they were doing now, but the near miss, the escaping together. It did it for him, and Callum knew that same look was reflected in his own eyes.

Callum took his own cock in his hand, stroking it roughly, needing for it to be harsh and random in its movements. Ben just kept chewing at his lip as he watched, his fingers gripping on to the side of the van and his dick bobbing out begging to be touched. Callum obliged, leaning forward so that both of them were in his hand.

It was sloppy and he didn’t waste any time, moving his hand rapidly up and down the shafts, only stopping to brush a thumb over the heads before going back to the movements. There was silence, just the slapping of skin and Ben’s moaning reaching out up to the stars. He was louder than before, as if there were nothing around to worry about. As if he was just letting himself be free. Callum’s grunts at the movement seemed to punctuate every curse that dropped from Ben’s lips every time his hand sped up.

Callum could feel his stomach tense, the breath short and sharp when escaping his lungs. Ben’s moans were being emitted with growls now, and a clutched fist on his arm was all it took for Callum to breathe out as he released onto his hand and over Ben’s dick. A little bit of the energy that had been shooting like fire through his veins started to slow, but he kept the movement of his hand up, erratically paced and lest friction now he had spilled, but at a tight enough grip.

The fingers around his arm got firmer, but then loosened and fluttered down as the sound stopped and Ben came over his hand. Callum slumped forward, resting his head on Ben’s forehead, his breath reflecting back off him from Ben’s cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said.

They stayed that way for a minute or two, Ben bringing his hand up just to give their cocks an afterstroke as they rode out this feeling together. Eventually, a plane flew overhead, the buzzing cutting through the silence.

Ben pushed him back gently with soft hand, before making his way to the cab of the van. He rummaged around in the dashboard, pulling out a packet of tissues, removing one and throwing the rest towards Callum.

The crackle from the van made them both jump a little as Callum cleaned himself and did his jeans back up. “Boss?” the voice said. “You there?”

Ben reached in and pulled out the radio. “I’m here, Deaks,” he replied. “What’s the news?”

Callum’s chest tightened a little at the sound of Deakey’s voice, aware he had his phone. “Flash was nicked apparently, which considering he was trespassing weren’t actually a surprise. I ain’t heard anything else though. He’s still at the station. You both alright?”

“Yeah, Deaks, we’re fine,” Ben said. “Give the lawyer a call, not one that’s associated with us, but one of the other ones we got on retainer. Get them to pop down there and see what’s going on. I’ll be back at the office soon.”

Ben threw the radio back on the dashboard. “That ain’t good,” he said, leaning against the door. “He should have either called someone or be out by now. It were only trespassing.”

Callum came to stand next to him, leaning back and folding his arms. The sky looked clear, even some twinkles of the shyest stars powering down. “Maybe it’s a busy night, and he’s having to wait. I’m sure he’ll get in contact soon,” he replied. He could see the fear in Ben’s face though. He could see how he was questioning the trust of one of his men.

“I hope so, otherwise the whole job will be off. Not only that but he could say something that could bring us all down if they pick up that he ain’t just some random chancer getting over a fence,” Ben admitted, and this time Callum couldn’t help but brush his fingers down his arm in comfort. “If he ain’t back by this time tomorrow, then nothing’s gonna matter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 Playlist
> 
> Flash - https://youtu.be/LfmrHTdXgK4
> 
> Under Pressure - https://youtu.be/OVzvoPP6M50
> 
> Play the Game - https://youtu.be/6_5O-nUiZ_0
> 
> If You Can't Beat Them - https://youtu.be/6ENsh4thPFA

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @blueangel0909
> 
> Tumblr: moodyblueangel


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